


Chicago Holiday

by dsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files, due South
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-07
Updated: 1999-05-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 21:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: When the fingerprints of a man whose fingers were severed appear  At a recent crime scene, Agents Mulder and Scully team up with Detective Vecchio and Constable Fraser in order to investigate.





	Chicago Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

 

 

chicago2

 

**Chicago Holiday?**

by Nancy Lemieux   
    
  

Disclaimer: 

        Hang onto your hats, boys and girls, this one's going to be long!   
(the disclaimer *and* the story) 

        Okay, this story lovingly portrays characters from two television   
series.  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and any mention of previously written   
X-Files belong to Chris Carter (god), Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox   
Television.  Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio, Lieutenant Welsh, Inspector   
Thatcher, Elaine, and Agent Ford are inventions of the great minds of Paul   
Haggis, Jeff King, and Kathy Slevin, and belong to CTV and Alliance   
Communications Corporation (I'd include CBS, but the friends of Due South   
will understand why I don't...).  They're not mine, I don't make any claim   
on them, other than borrowing them and playing 'doll' with them.  They're   
back with their owners and I didn't harm them (well, not permanently,   
anyway ;).  I'm a poor student with practically no money to pay next   
month's rent, so suing me would be an exercise in futility.  (*Please*   
don't hurt me!)  The other characters are mine!  (Okay, Chantal isn't   
mine, she's a real person, but she was all for it when she found out she'd   
be licked by the Mountie -- too bad that didn't happen, but I think she'll   
like the ending even more. ;)  Some spoilers for both shows, but I'm too   
lazy to go back and figure out which episodes apply. 

        Of course, this story might not have been made if CC had admitted   
to the deep love between his two lead characters but would he listen to   
us????? Noooooo!!!!!! g  Well, this is what happens when you don't...   
Bwaaaaa haaaa haaaaa!!!!!!! 

        Some of the characters in this story are depicted in NC-17   
situations (take a wild guess who ;) so if you're a minor and you read   
this, you'll go blind!  Really!  Of course, if you still want to read my   
brilliant smirk story, I've also posted a PG version.  So you can enjoy   
the story, see a little smooching and a lot of innuendo, and not risk   
losing your sight at such a young age. 

        I began working on this story last August (when I was trying to   
write my Master's thesis on something closely related to apoptosis and   
failing miserably, but I've since managed and I'll be getting that diploma   
anytime soon...)  I used what I thought was an original idea: a genetic   
mutant that regrows parts of its body.  Then, this Friday, I found out a   
few things about the next X-Files episode, Leonard Betts, and I thought   
"Gee, doesn't that seem familiar?"  So, in order to not look like I'd   
stolen someone else's idea, I cranked out the rest of the story yesterday   
(about 70K - which meant sitting at my computer for 15 hours straight).   
So I apologize if the proof reading's not perfect. I may re-post a revised   
version later on.  As for who came up with the idea of a genetic mutant   
that can regrow parts of its body, tell ya what , Chris, we'll let the   
lawyers fight that one out, okay? g (kidding!  I was first!) 

        Uh... what else?  Oh yeah!  Special thanks to my   
proofreaders/people who commented/people who promised to comment/people   
who laughed at the scenes I was typing on IRC: Chantal (proofreader and   
character extraordinaire), Rhoni (get back on-line!), Gil, and the IRC   
gang (Kelly, Teresa, Sarah, Marnee, and anyone else I've forgotten \- Oh,   
and cheesedip?  Here's the smut you were waiting for g) 

Any and all comments on my story are appreciated.  I *love* seeing 30   
email messages waiting for me when I log on. :)  Flames will be used to   
warm my apartment - I *do* live in Canada you know. :) 

Summary:  When the fingerprints of a man whose fingers were severed appear   
at a recent crime scene, agents Mulder and Scully are called in to team up   
with detective Vecchio and constable Fraser in order to investigate.  This   
is a crossover, but you don't need to have watched Due South to follow   
this story.  It just adds nuances. 

Classification: C (XF/Due South) MSR 

This is a *sequel* to another fanfic I wrote: Wearing.  I recommend you   
read that one before you read this, so you understand what's going on.   
There's also a mention of another story I wrote, The Morning After.  (Both   
are available on the Gossamer archives) 

* * *

  
 

Chicago Holiday? 

by Nancy Lemieux 

 Chantal was tired.  She'd had a long day at the office, and all   
she wanted to do right now was to get in her car, drive home, pop a couple   
of aspirins and take a long soak in her designer tub to get her mind off   
the day's events.  First it had been the flat tire, then the misplaced   
orders that had cost her company thousands of dollars and forced her to do   
some quick apologizing to her customers, and then the headache had come.   
Pounding in her ears, putting pressure behind her eyes, making her want to   
just crawl under the covers of her bed. 

        Maybe she'd just skip the bath and go straight to bed, she   
thought, reaching her car.  As she poised her keys to unlock the door, she   
heard a scuffing sound somewhere behind her.  Turning quickly, all she   
could see was a row of parked cars along the sidewalk and some trees   
lining the side of the semi-commercial street.  She held her breath -   
waiting to see if she would hear anything else, or if she could detect a   
movement somewhere in the shadows -- which were growing quickly as the sun   
set facing her.  Squinting and holding her hand to block the sun, she   
craned her neck forward to get a better view of what was around her.   
Nothing.  Satisfied that there was no one there, she turned around,   
mentally chiding herself for getting overly paranoid.  Yes, this *was*   
Chicago, but it didn't mean that every criminal was out to get her.  It   
had probably just been one of the last squirrels of the day, climbing up a   
branch to find a resting place for the night, or something. 

        She had just unlocked the door when she heard it again.  This time   
it was clearer.  Steps coming for her, quickly.  Instincts kicking in, she   
yanked her car door open, hoping for a quick get-away.  She was just   
reaching out to shut the door when she felt someone grab her arm and pull   
her out of the car.  Yelling at the top of her voice, she kicked and   
punched out furiously, trying to get at her assailant.  She heard a groan   
as one of her kicks connected, then felt a wrenching in her shoulder as   
her arm was twisted backwards.  Yelping in pain, she reached back and   
elbowed the attacker in the solar plexus.  She heard a distinct male groan   
as she felt the grip on her arm loosen.  She tried pulling it free with no   
success.  The grip tightened again, and she felt a sharp stabbing pain in   
her trapezoid as a needle penetrated the skin, right into the muscle.  A   
burning sensation instantly started to spread from that area, invading her   
shoulder, neck and back.  She was being drugged!  The realization caused a   
powerful adrenaline rush, and she struggled mightily to escape.  Her   
assailant pushed her against the car, grabbing her hands and turning her   
around. 

        That's when she saw him.  He was taller than her, perhaps 6 foot   
two, muscular, most probably a weight trainer.  She dared herself to look   
at his face, and was disappointed to see him wearing a ski mask.  All she   
could see was his lips, curled into a sneer, and his grey eyes, boring   
into her with a stare so full of animosity she flinched. 

        The heat was spreading.  It was now in her arm, in her chest, and   
with panic starting to really sink in, she realized that it was spreading   
through her head.  She didn't have much time left.  Looking straight into   
his eyes, she suddenly catapulted forward, butting his nose with her   
forehead.  He reeled back a bit and let her hands go.  Reaching into her   
pants pocket, she felt her Swiss army knife, pulled it out and snapped the   
blade open.  Without wasting a second, she slashed out towards his face in   
a well-rehearsed Kali move - a fake meant to disconcert him.  He pulled up   
his hands, trying to protect himself, and that's when she exploded.  In   
one smooth curving motion she slashed out at his wrists, curved back to   
slash at his abdomen, then retreated the blade only for a second before   
embedding it right below his rib cage.  He let out a garbled scream,   
backing away. 

        Sensing her chance, she picked up her car keys where they had   
fallen, dove for the driver's seat, and tried to put her key in the   
ignition.  It took several attempts, seeing as her head was spinning like   
a wild carnival ride.  She took a deep breath and started the car.   
Turning to shut the car door, she saw him diving towards her.  Summoning   
the last of her strength she shut the door with all her might, just as he   
was about to touch her.  Ignoring his screams, she put the car in gear and   
gunned the accelerator, concentrating on making it to the corner of the   
street, and turning left at the T intersection.  Before she had made it a   
hundred yards the world went black. 

******* 

        "What I'm saying, Benny, is that you should try getting out of   
that uniform more often.  I realize that there are some women who like   
their men in uniform, but you'd be opening yourself to a bigger market if   
you put on a suit, and a silk shirt... like me.." 

        "Well, that's not true, Ray.  In all factuality, I *do*, on   
occasion, put on a suit.  And while I must concede the comfort and   
softness of the fabric, I feel that a silk shirt just doesn't put forth   
the proper image, which is why I prefer to wear... RAY LOOK OUT!" 

        The driver of the 1971 Buick Riviera just had time to look back at   
the road and swerve out of the way as a grey BMW ran a stop sign right in   
front of him.  Hitting the brakes, the Riv screeched to a halt right   
before the high-priced car ran straight into the brick wall of the store   
in front of the T intersection. 

        Ray took a second to take in the scene.  His passenger, however,   
wasted no time in leaping out of the car to run towards the accident,   
assessing the situation and yelling back "There's a woman in here, I think   
she's hurt." 

        Taking only half a second to for his mind register this, the   
driver reached down towards the dashboard and grabbed the mouthpiece of   
his car radio. 

        "This is detective Vecchio, requesting emergency medical   
assistance at the corner of Oak and 4th.  There's been an accident, with a   
possible injury. Over." 

        "Roger, detective.  An ambulance is being dispatched now." 

        He didn't wait to hear the rest.  He quickly ran out of the Riv   
and headed towards his friend, who was trying to pry open the driverside   
door.  Working together, they quickly managed to do so.  Ray reached in to   
check the woman's pulse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt it.   
Faint but regular, and she was breathing. 

        "She's alive Benny, but I think the crash knocked her out.  I   
don't think we should move her, just in case she's got a spinal injury." 

        "I think that's wise Ray." 

        "So, do you have any idea what could have caused this?" 

        "Well, right now I think there isn't sufficient information to   
actually explain what happened here.  However, there are several   
possibilities.  She was draped over her steering wheel when she ran the   
stoplight, which would indicate she was already unconscious at that point.   
There could be several reasons for this... heart attack, stroke, seizure,   
fainting... the possibilities are practically endless.  Now, many road   
accidents are caused by drivers falling asleep at the wheel, but given the   
fact she was driving in the city and that Oak street isn't that long, I've   
ruled out that possibility." 

        "Maybe she was diabetic." 

        "Yes, Ray.  That's another possible theory.  She may have become   
hyper or hypo-glycemic, which might easily cause her to lose   
consciousness.  Now, the easiest way to find out if she has a medical   
condition -other than special jewelry, which she doesn't have - is to look   
at her drivers' license.  Therefore, I suggest we search for her purse." 

        "I'll do that.  You try and search for other clues as to why this   
might have happened." 

        "Okay." 

        As Benny moved around towards the front of the car, Ray bent over   
to try and find the purse, finding it at his feet where it had slid to the   
ground when the door had opened.  Reaching down, he picked it up to search   
for her wallet when he noticed something else on the ground. 

        "Oh my god, Fraser.  Come here!" 

        Hearing the tone in his friend's voice, Benny quickly ran back   
from the front of the car and stopped to look where his friend was   
pointing. 

        "Great Scott!!!!!" 

***** 

        "What is it now, Mulder?" 

        "Good morning to you too, Scully!" 

        She had wanted to greet him as she entered his office, but had   
stopped herself when she'd seen the look on his face.  He was onto   
something, which meant they were about to embark on a case, and to tell   
the truth, she didn't want to have to pack and take off for god knows   
where this morning.  Sighing, she dropped her briefcase on a table and   
headed for the coffee machine. 

        "I'm sorry.  Good morning, Mulder.  What is it now?" 

        He grinned at her, a spark of amusement in his eyes. 

        "Well, since you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?" 

        She gave him one of her looks which meant she was in no mood for   
his jokes, and he shrugged.  Pulling out a file, he handed it to her. 

        "Two weeks ago, Chantal Valerie Kuhn, a Chicago resident, was   
attacked by someone.  He injected her with a sedative, but she managed to   
fight him off long enough to get into her car and drive away.  Several   
moments later she lost consciousness and crashed into a nearby brick   
building.  The suspect was never apprehended." 

        "That doesn't sound like our field of investigation." 

        "You'd think so at first glance, but that's not all.  Apparently,   
during her struggle, she managed to close the car door on her attacker's   
hand and severed three fingers.  A thumb, index, and middle finger.  Left   
hand." 

        "Good for her.  That should make the suspect easy to identify.   
Have the local hospitals been notified of the possibility of a man with   
severed fingers coming in for treatment?" 

        "Yes.  No one with such a description was treated in any of the   
Chicago area hospitals.  The fingerprints were taken, and matched those of   
an unknown criminal who had previously been wanted for three rapes and   
several robberies." 

        "That still doesn't explain to me why our help is being requested." 

        Mulder looked at his partner and grinned.  She was ever the   
pragmatic, analytical scientist... 

        "Ah, but you see, two days ago someone called the Chicago police   
after their house had been broken into.  The forensics team lifted some   
prints, and it turns out that they were an exact match to the assailant   
who attacked miss Kuhn.  Thumb and index finger, left hand." 

        He stopped, gauging his partner's expression.  Her eyes widened   
and her jaw fell open as the realization hit her. 

        "But Mulder, that's impossible!" 

        "You'd think so.  Yet they're absolutely positive.  It's a 100%   
match, and you remember what they taught us at the academy." 

        "His fingers have been cut off!  It's not like you can just   
re-grow something like that!" 

        "That," he replied, taking her coat and briefcase and handing them   
to her, "is precisely why we're leaving for Chicago.  The plane leaves in   
one hour.  We just have to go home and pack, which leaves me with one   
final question..." 

        "What?" 

        "Your place or mine?" 

        She gave him a look that could melt tempered steel, and he laughed   
as he put his hand to the small of her back to escort her out of his   
office, noticing the shiver that went through her at the contact. 

************ 

        A man in a light grey suit extended his hand as welcome. 

        "Agent Mulder, nice to see you again." 

        "Agent Ford."  Mulder shook hands with him, and pointed towards   
his partner. 

        "This is agent Scully." 

        Ford nodded towards her, took her hand in greeting and she smiled. 

        "Agent Scully, it's a pleasure to meet you.  I've heard a lot   
about the two of you." 

        "Well whatever you heard, none of it's true." Mulder deadpanned. 

        That caught the Chicago office agent off guard.  He'd heard all   
the stories, about Spooky Mulder and his skeptical partner, and even met   
Mulder at a bar once in D.C. ... on a night where he had been rather drunk   
and couldn't remember anything else.  Yet these two seemed *normal*.   
Surely some of the rumours *had* to have been exaggerated.  Recovering as   
best he could, he led the two agents out of the airport and towards his   
car. 

        "There's a car waiting for you at our offices.  I thought we'd go   
there first... that is unless you'd like to get settled in your hotel   
rooms first. 

        "No, that's alright.  We might as well get started on the case.   
It's still early.  We'll drive out to the hotel later, when we get our   
car." 

        Those were the first words Ford had heard from Scully.  Not that   
she hadn't said anything, but it had all been directed towards her   
partner, and had come across in silent communication. 

        "How much do you know about this case?" Ford asked. 

        "Well, only what was in the report your office sent us.  A woman   
was accosted, almost kidnapped, but she managed to get away, taking three   
of the assailant's fingers with her.  Then, less than two weeks later, the   
same prints show up elsewhere, in a B&E case." 

        "That's right, agent Mulder, and this case has us completely   
stumped.  It's *impossible* that the same prints could have shown up at   
that second crime.  There's something strange going on, and when we   
couldn't get any sort of explanation, we called you in." 

        "Did you hear that, Scully?  Our reputation precedes us." 

        Mulder glanced at Scully, who was looking back at him and barely   
suppressing a grin from his joke.  Ford, on the other hand, didn't look   
particularly happy about his last crack.  *So he knows about 'Spooky',*   
thought Mulder.  He was about to make a crack about apparitions when he   
felt a punch in his side.  He looked up to see Scully give him a warning   
look.  Oh, she was good.  Now she could even figure out when he was going   
to throw a wisecrack before he did so.  He gave her his best contrite   
look, and patted her thigh, in what was meant to be a reassuring way.   
What he wasn't expecting was the colour that suddenly rose to her cheeks.   
She was getting flustered by just that touch?  Come to think of it, he was   
feeling something stirring in his stomach... butterflies?  As quickly, yet   
subtly, as possible he removed his hand from her thigh and returned it to   
his own lap.  Imprisoning it with his other hand before it felt the urge   
to wander again. 

        Luckily, during this whole exchange, Ford had been busy trying to   
get past a small traffic jam created by a truck trying to back out of a   
driveway, and a car that was double parked.  By the time he glanced at his   
rear view mirror, both agents were absorbed by the view of the Chicago   
suburbs.   
    
  

        Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the Chicago FBI offices.   
Ford escorted them to his office.  He told his assistant to have the car   
ready and waiting for them, then showed them inside and handed them all   
the notes relative to the case, including the tape of the victim's   
interview and the official police report. 

        Without a word, the team sat down at a desk and pored over the new   
material, pausing only to exchange comments on this or that aspect of what   
they were reading.  Ford surveyed them with a wary eye, not sure what to   
expect from the two most talked-about pair of agents in the Bureau, before   
turning back to some pressing business on his desk. 

        When Mulder had finished going over the police report with a   
fine-toothed comb, he stirred, catching Ford's attention. 

        "Agent Ford, there's a detail here that doesn't compute." 

        "And what might that be?" 

        "Is the victim a Canadian citizen?" 

        Ford was taken aback by this.  Where had this question come from? 

        "No.  She's an American citizen, despite her name, although her   
mother is French.  Why on earth would you ask me that?" 

        "Well, it's simple," Mulder began, trying hard to not use the   
condescending tone he often used when agents didn't catch on to his line   
of questioning right away, "the report states that two men were assigned   
to the investigation, right?" 

        "Yes..."  Ford was still not following. 

        "And it states quite clearly that these men were a certain   
detective Raymond Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department, and a   
constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, right?" 

        "That's quite right."  Ford grinned, realizing that this agent had   
no way of knowing of the friendship between Vecchio and Fraser. 

        "So then why, if the victim isn't a Canadian citizen, was a member   
of the Canadian diplomatic contingency brought into this investigation?" 

        "Oh, he wasn't 'brought into' the investigation... he was there   
from the start." 

        That response phased Mulder, who took on an interested look as he   
waited for the agent to finish his story.  This couldn't be the Mountie   
Ford had talked about that night in D.C., in the bar, could it?  His mind   
was fuzzy about that night, and he'd since forgotten the story, but he   
still remembered the impression of a greater-than-life constable. 

        "Truth of the matter is, we couldn't get rid of him if we tried.   
He's best friends with the detective in question, and has been meddling in   
police affairs around here for two years now." 

********************* 

        Ford looked at Mulder, to see an amused grin spread across his   
face.  Obviously the special agent was enjoying his discomfort.  He   
continued his description. 

        "Now, before you decide to take a sudden liking to this pair, I   
suggest you hear me out.  I've had dealings with these two men before.  A   
story about terrorists, a train, and a subsequent hostage taking whose   
details I won't go into, but suffice it to say that these officers don't   
have much respect for the Bureau." 

        "Is there a particular reason for this?  Something we should be   
aware of before we meet them?" 

        "Nothing in particular... let's just say that they're not exactly   
fond of our procedures." 

        Mulder grinned to himself... these two sounded better and better   
with every sentence that came out of Ford's mouth.  Scully, on the other   
hand, was not so happy.  Dealing with Mulder on a daily basis was already   
taxing enough when he was hot on the trail of a new suspect, without   
having to deal with a couple of maverick police officers.  Especially when   
one of them wasn't even a citizen of this country.  She glanced over at   
her partner, and was dismayed to see the excitement building in him.  It   
wasn't really apparent to the untrained individual, but having spent so   
much time with him she could recognize the signs.  Subtle changes in   
posture, a faint flush, some sort of energy that emanated from him.  The   
signs were there, and she wasn't too happy to see them.  She had hoped to   
start off this investigation slowly, spend some time getting accustomed to   
the surroundings... perhaps a few strategy session alone with Mulder. 

        She stopped herself at the last remark, feeling the tingling   
sensation coursing through her at the thought of spending time alone with   
Mulder.  This was not good.  Not good at all.  Ever since they'd had that   
conversation at her apartment - when he thought she was an impostor and   
they'd practically gone over the edge, only to finally admit their true   
feelings for one another - they'd avoided any time alone outside of work   
hours.  Despite their earlier resolutions to have some more social time   
together, it seemed the safest thing to do for the moment, considering the   
level of arousal he could create in her just from the thought of the two   
of them alone.  She knew how she felt, and she knew how he felt, but she   
didn't want the rest of the world to know... not yet, anyway. 

        She was shaken out of her reverie by the sound of Mulder, saying   
her name. 

        "Scully, did you hear what I just said?" 

        She blinked a few times, waiting for her surroundings to come back   
into focus before answering. 

        "I'm sorry, Mulder, I was just trying to sort out a few facts.  I   
wasn't paying attention.  What did you say?" 

        "I said that now that we've finished all the available details of   
the case, we should head over to the police station to see the two   
investigators before we go over and interview Miss Kuhn ourselves." 

        "That sounds fine, Mulder." 

        She reached down to pick up the few remaining papers, putting them   
in her briefcase and then grasping her coat.  She stilled as Ford broke   
in, his tone suddenly hesitant. 

        "I've told you that these two aren't exactly conventional, but I   
feel that I must warn you.  They *really* don't take kindly to FBI agents,   
and they most probably treat you with disdain, if not outright   
aggressiveness.  Well, Vecchio at least.  That Mountie isn't the type to   
yell and insult.  You know.... typical Canadian temperament.  And whatever   
happens, I hope you don't run into his immediate superior..." 

        He stopped there, although it was obvious he was leaving much unsaid. 

***** 

        "Elaine... aren't you done with the license plate check, yet?' 

        "I'm not your personal slave, Vecchio.  I *do* have other things   
to attend to, you know." 

        Ray's tone took on a honeyed quality as he spoke to his colleague,   
trying his best to turn on the charm in order to get his request as top   
priority. 

        "Aw.... Elaine... you know you mean the world to me." 

        "Yeah, that's why you boss me around, never talk to me except when   
you need favours, and even pull me away from a comfortable day off to help   
you find some file in the archives when your butt's in the sling.... I   
don't think so!" 

        She was smiling.  The banter was always the same... everybody   
assumed that it was their god-given right to ask her for favours. 

        "I'll tell you what.  You spare Fraser for a few minutes to help   
me, and I'll make sure your request gets top priority." 

        She batted her eyelashes suggestively at the officer who was   
sitting on the chair next to Ray's desk, and barely suppressed a giggle as   
he quickly shifted his glance away from her and tried to make himself as   
small as possible while turning a shade of red only slightly paler than   
the colour of the serge uniform he was wearing.  Elaine giggled silently   
this time.  A man his age, as attractive as he was, and he still wasn't   
quite comfortable with women's constant advances... would wonders never   
cease? 

        Ray groaned.  What was it about his best friend that turned most   
women into silly putty?  Okay, he was tall, in excellent shape, and   
wearing a uniform, but so what? 

        "Benny, do you have to keep doing that?" 

        "Do what, Ray?" 

        "Wear that uniform... I'm tired of seeing all the female coworkers   
throw themselves at your feet." 

        Fraser stopped for a second... apparently pondering the remark. 

        "I'm confused, Ray... weren't you telling me just a couple of   
weeks ago that I should wear something *other* than my uniform to attract   
women?" 

        "No I wasn't." 

        "I beg to differ, but I quite distinctly remember that was what we   
were discussing before you swerved to miss that woman whose case we're   
investigating." 

        "Well, I'm glad to see you're actively discussing the case." 

        Both men turned around to see where that voice was coming from,   
and stopped as they took in the sight of the tall man and the redhead   
woman standing next to him.  Both wore serious expressions and   
trenchcoats, which could only mean one thing.  Ray rolled his eyes   
heavenward as he cursed silently.  Fibbies... just what he needed. 

        Mulder stepped forward, extending his hand towards the Italian   
detective. 

        "Well, before we get down to business, I guess we should get the   
introductions out of the way.  I'm special agent Fox Mulder, and this is   
my partner, special agent Dana Scully." 

        Both agents flipped out their badges, and waited while the other   
two examined them.  Vecchio didn't let his eyes rest too long on the ID's,   
preferring to concentrate on the petite agent. 

        Scully rolled her eyes as she saw Vecchio giving her a lascivious   
once-over.  **Men!**  She mentally groaned, but quickly corrected, as she   
realized that the Canadian officer, while also obviously affected by her   
looks, was keeping a much calmer facade and not exhibiting similar lewd   
behaviour. 

        "Well, well, Fraser... if it isn't the FBI.  What could we have   
possibly done to deserve the honour of their visit?" 

        Mulder put on a sardonic smile, the one he reserved for those who   
couldn't resist calling him 'Spooky'. 

        "Likewise, detective.  But while I'd love to stand here and   
exchange more niceties with you, I'm afraid we've got an investigation to   
take care of, and we need your help to do so." 

        Fraser, keenly observing the reactions of both men, chose this   
time to jump in. 

        "We'd be more than happy to assist you in any way we can, agent   
Mulder." 

        Vecchio shot his friend a nasty look.  Why did he always have to   
be so *nice* to everyone?  Hadn't he learned that FBI agents were up to no   
good?  Those classes at Quantico were all the same, and most certainly   
included 'How to be a pain in the neck 101'. 

        "Well, for starters, we'd like to examine the evidence that was   
gathered in this case, including the severed fingers."  Scully broke in,   
having seen the detective's reaction and deciding that a courteous,   
professional approach might just put his mind at rest regarding herself   
and Mulder.  From the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder relax. 

        "We'd be more than happy to help you, Mrs. Scully, or is that Miss   
Scully?" 

        "Agent Scully." 

        She wasn't about to let that Italian detective try and close in on   
her.  It was hard enough keeping the professional respect of many men in   
law enforcement without having one try and get too familiar with her. 

        "Alright, *agent* Scully.  The evidence is in our storage room   
downstairs, except for the fingers, which have been kept in cold storage   
at the county morgue." 

        Scully nodded, already going through a mental checklist of tests   
which should be performed on the severed fingers... DNA analysis, search   
for material under the fingernails, another set of fingerprints to be   
made, blood typing... 

        "We would like to examine the evidence, if you don't mind, but   
first I'd like to hear your account of what happened when you first   
arrived on the scene." 

        Ray glared at Mulder.  "Our account is already filed away in the   
report." 

        Mulder gave him a slow smile, trying to look condescending. 

        "Yes, I'm aware of that, detective Vecchio, but I think that we   
might profit from hearing the account directly from you.  There might be a   
detail you've forgotten to include, or an account which somehow got   
transcribed improperly, which could affect the outcome of the case.  I'm   
also curious as to what your theory is on how a man whose fingers have   
been severed could later commit a robbery and leave fingerprints.  What   
about the description of the culprit?  Did the victim say anything unusual   
about him?  Appearance?  A particular smell?  Flashing lights, or loss of   
time?" 

        Scully shot Mulder a warning glance.  He was digging himself   
deeper, and taking off on a tangent which she didn't appreciate. 

        Both policemen simply shrugged, beginning their account of the   
accident and the investigation they'd performed afterwards. 

        Mulder and Scully paid careful attention to the details of the   
account unfolding before them, and asked some questions, but overall   
didn't glean any new information.  Half an hour later, with the story   
complete, they thanked the two men for their time, and headed out to the   
suburbs to interview the victim. 

******** 

        The rental car slid to a halt in front of 206 West 38th street.   
Despite being a standard nondescript blue sedan, it actually stood out in   
this high class residential area, where the number of luxury cars   
displayed in your driveway was but one mark of social standing.  Another   
was the actual house itself, where each neighbour tried to outdo the other   
in the architecture, and the layout of the grounds was a ferocious battle   
led by gardeners, who all claimed to be *the* expert in their field. 

        Chantal Kuhn's house was certainly not the biggest, nor did it   
have the most cars lined outside, or the prettiest front lawn, but the   
ivy-laden stone house, terrain aesthetics, and obvious cost of her   
property hinted to her high-paying job in the business district.   
Obviously she knew how to handle the stock exchange. 

        Scully checked that her notepad and case file were in her   
briefcase, and got out of the car, shaking Mulder out of his intense   
observation of the property.  As she turned to lock the door, he caught   
her attention. 

        "I figure that in about 15 years, the promotions we'll have   
garnered from our excellent work at the Bureau should make buying a house   
like this a breeze."  He smirked and gazed into her eyes to gauge the   
effect his joke had on her. 

        Scully rolled her eyes in theatrical frustration, but blushed   
slightly.  She couldn't help it.  The first thought that had crossed her   
mind was that of their buying a house like this *together*.  Darting a   
look towards Mulder, she saw he had noticed her blushing, but she was   
amused to see him having difficulty to swallow -- as if his throat had   
just gone dry.  She caught his gaze and held it for a second, in awe that   
he could have reactions like this because of her.  The reality of their   
recent mutual confessions of love and their subsequent decision to not act   
on it immediately was starting to take its toll. 

        "Well, shall we?" 

        His phrase broke her train of thought and she nodded, waiting for   
him as he rounded the front of the car.  Reaching her, he gently placed   
his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the front of the   
house.  The world stopped for both of them as each felt a burst of heat   
pervading them.  Scully took a cleansing breath, somehow willing away the   
tension that had begun to coil in her lower abdomen, and relaxed as the   
heat changed to a sense of peace and security.  Mulder, on the other hand,   
was not having such an easy time controlling himself, and was busy   
thinking cold thoughts to get his body temperature back to normal. 

        *Think cold... think cold... snow... ice... Arctic -- uh... nope,   
not that...*  Visions of the Arctic Ice Core Project began flooding his   
mind.  Fear for his life and Scully's, the strange parasite, the worry   
that they might be infected, and the electricity generated as they had   
examined each other's necks and backs.  He felt tingly as the blood began   
leaving his brain for another peripheral location.  Heroically, he pushed   
the images out of his mind and forced himself to visualize taking an ice   
cold bath.  As he felt his heart rate returning to normal, he breathed a   
silent sigh of relief.  It would not have done to have the woman they were   
about to interview answer the door and see him in a state of arousal.  His   
position at the Bureau was already too precarious to add something like   
this to his record. 

        As he suddenly remembered Scully at his side he turned to look at   
her, praying to whatever might be out there that she hadn't been aware of   
what had just happened to him.  Luckily, she seemed to be taken with her   
own thoughts, and had not noticed his reactions.  He breathed another sigh   
of relief. 

        By the time they reached the door, both had their professional   
demeanour back. 

        The door was answered almost immediately.  They were greeted by a   
woman who looked at them questioningly. 

        "Good afternoon, I'm special agent Mulder from the FBI, and this   
is my partner agent Scully.  We're looking for Chantal Valerie Kuhn." 

        She smiled, hearing her name pronounced incorrectly.  It came as   
no surprise.  Most Americans (and then again most everyone on this planet)   
weren't aware of the special accents her French names required. 

        "That would be me.  I was told to expect you today.  Why don't you   
come in, make yourselves comfortable.  Would you like some tea or coffee?" 

        She led them into her spacious living room, leaving momentarily to   
prepare the requested coffee as the two agents settled into some very   
comfortable seats.  Minutes later she returned with the brew, complete   
with some hors-d'oeuvres.  Both accepted their cups with a word of thanks,   
but did not touch the food.  Obviously, they were here for business, and   
would not waste any more time than necessary getting down to it. 

        After the two agents had exchanged glances, Mulder spoke up. 

        "Miss Kuhn, I imagine it's no secret as to why we're here.  We're   
investigating the assault you reported a few weeks ago and would like to   
hear your version of the facts, if possible." 

        Chantal paused for a second to sort out her reply.  After a moment   
she opened her mouth to begin, then hesitated as a thought crossed her   
mind. 

        "I'm sure you're aware that I already made a statement, and have   
had to repeat my story countless times to a series of policemen, and even   
another agent from the FBI.  I'm curious  as to why you don't just use the   
reports which must have been generated from that." 

        Scully smiled a reassuring smile.  Obviously this woman was highly   
intelligent.  It was understandable that she might tire of telling her   
story, but her statement had held more.  It was as if she knew that Mulder   
and herself wanted more.  Leaning forward slightly, she answered. 

        "We understand your point of view, Miss Kuhn, but the fact of the   
matter is we would rather hear the account directly from you.  Perhaps   
retelling it will jog some memory that may shed some light on the case.   
We also have a somewhat different approach from that of the police force,   
so we may come to a different conclusion than what was in the police   
report.  I'm sorry if this brings back painful memories.  Please take your   
time, but we would greatly appreciate your cooperation if you want the   
suspect apprehended quickly." 

        Chantal nodded, and mentally braced herself to relive the attack   
in her mind.  Taking a breath, she began her story.  She told them about   
the apprehension as she neared her car, about the sudden attack from   
behind, the struggle, her retaliation, the drug, and the escape from the   
car, up to the point where she crashed the car. 

        Mulder nodded, listening attentively while Scully wrote some notes   
on her pad.  He waited patiently until she had gotten to the point where   
the two officers had gotten involved, and then interrupted her. 

        "I want to hear the account of what you may remember once   
Detective Vecchio and Constable Fraser entered the scene, but first I'd   
like to focus on your assailant for a second.  You've already mentioned   
what he was wearing, his height, his build, his eye colour, and his   
Caucasian origin.  What I want you to focus on now is your impression of   
him.  Was there anything which you might classify as out of the ordinary?" 

        Chantal wasn't following.  "Out of the ordinary?" 

        "Anything that you might have noticed... something that caught   
your attention... it could be anything like a background noise, a   
particular smell, thoughts that crossed your mind, something in your   
periphery that made you look somewhere else, or any special reaction that   
you may have had that didn't seem 'normal' under those circumstances." 

        She stared blankly at him.  This was just not computing.  What on   
earth could he mean? 

        "I'm sorry, I'm just not following." 

        He gave her one of his 'make any woman within 100 yards melt'   
smiles and tried to explain his line of questioning. 

        "I'm simply asking you this to see if you might remember anything   
else about your assailant.  Something that doesn't immediately come to   
mind when you are asked to describe someone.  Something other than   
physical appearance which might still provide an important clue as to who   
a person is, or what they do.  Even perhaps what motivates them to make   
such an attack, or why they chose you." 

        Chantal nodded.  Yes, this made sense, but she still couldn't   
think of anything out of the ordinary to say... except.. perhaps... 

        "Well, I'm not sure what to say.  All I think of is that he seemed   
to exude a form of wildness.  Like he wasn't quite civilized.  He also   
didn't say a single word.  Only grunted, and he let out a cry of pain when   
I knifed him.  I can't say I recall anything else.  It's quite a blur,   
what with the drug that was in me and the fear I was feeling.  I'm amazed   
I've even been able to recall this much." 

        "Alright then.  That's fine.  Now, let's go onto the subsequent   
accident.  You said you were unconscious." 

        "Yes.  I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open, and this   
heaviness was pressing down on me.  It got dark, and my limbs were heavy,   
and I just sort of collapsed against the wheel.  I faintly remember the   
crunching sound as my car hit the wall.  Then, I moved in and out of   
consciousness, catching bits of what was happening around me." 

        "What do you remember from those bits?" 

        "I remember feeling fingers taking my pulse.  There were also two   
men's voices, talking to each other.  Something about me being a diabetic,   
and then checking my purse.  I blacked out for a bit, but was awakened by   
one of the men... the one in red - whom I later found out was Constable   
Fraser - was sniffing me." 

        The two agents didn't react.  They had heard this from the two men   
earlier.  Constable Fraser had mentioned how he had smelled her breath, to   
detect if there was alcohol, or the sweet breath of a hyperglycemic   
diabetic.  Scully had been impressed by this, but hadn't had time to   
congratulate the constable on his good thinking before detective Vecchio   
had chimed in, saying she was lucky he hadn't licked her.  The two agents   
had stared at him dumbfounded as he'd gone on to explain.  "He has a   
tendency to do that a lot."  Fraser had stayed silent during that last   
exchange. 

        "Yes, we've heard about that, Miss Kuhn.  Is there anything else   
you remember after that?" 

        "Not really.  I blacked out, and the next thing I remember is   
waking up in a hospital room.  I had a mother of a headache and felt   
dizzy.  The doctor told me it was due to the drug I'd been injected with   
and the concussion I'd suffered during the accident.  I was released the   
next day and that's all there is to say.  I've told my story dozens of   
times now.  There's nothing else to add. 

        Mulder looked at Scully, who silently assured him she'd written   
everything down, and with a small nod he turned his attention back to   
Chantal. 

        "Thank you very much for your patience, Miss Kuhn.  We'll let you   
know if anything develops.  In the meantime, you must remember that the   
suspect is still on the loose, and may try and attack you again.  If you   
feel like you're being followed, or if anything happens, don't hesitate to   
contact the local police department.  If there's anything else you   
remember, or if you want to reach us, you can call these numbers. 

        He handed her a business card with his cell phone number on it and   
Scully did the same. 

        "Thank you." Chantal replied, feeling somewhat reassured that   
these two agents were on the case.  "If there's anything else, I'll let   
you know." 

        She walked them to the front door and bade them good-bye, watching   
as they got into their car and drove away. 

***** 

        "Well, what do you think?" 

        "About her testimony?" Scully inquired. 

        "Yes." 

        "Well, Mulder, it sounds like any of dozen cases of assault with   
intent to rape.  The suspect already has a record of such assaults -" 

        "I know that, I mean do you think she's hiding something from us?   
Does she know more than she's telling us?" 

        "Mulder!  Why do you always assume there's more going on than   
there is?  She's a victim.  She didn't ask to be attacked, it just   
happened!" 

        He paused for a second, pondering her response. 

        "You're right." 

        He paused to think some more, then added. 

        "How about her description of the suspect?  What did you think of   
that?" 

        "In what sense?" 

        "The wildness, the grunting... as if he were some primitive   
animal.  What could that mean?" 

        "I don't find anything too extraordinary about that.  Most repeat   
offenders in cases of assault show tendencies towards aggressiveness.  He   
may have grunted just so that his voice wouldn't be picked up... maybe he   
has an accent, something that would make him easy to pick out... there   
could be a dozen reasons." 

        "I supposed that makes sense.  But why did she feel the need to   
describe him as a wild animal?  Why insist on there having some   
'primitive' feel to him?" 

        Scully's eyes widened as it dawned on her which direction her   
partner's thoughts were headed. 

        "Mulder!  Are you suggesting that the suspect is something other   
than a man?  That this is some form of wild animal?  A missing link?" 

        "I must be rubbing off on you, Scully.  I couldn't have said it   
better myself." 

        He chuckled lightly as she stopped, stunned both by his ideas as   
well as by the way he'd gotten by her riposte so easily. 

        "No, you're not, Mulder.  That idea is absolutely ludicrous.   
First of all, we are dealing with a man.  Second of all, when was the last   
time you saw a wild animal procure themselves *and* deftly use a syringe   
and drugs?" 

        Mulder's elation was dampened somewhat as his partner's arguments   
sank in.  She was right.  While it was tempting to jump onto the 'missing   
link' theory, there was too much preparation and skill involved.  However,   
unwilling to concede so easily to his partner's arguing (it was just *so*   
fun to watch her face liven up when she got flustered), he decided to   
compromise. 

        "You may be right, Scully.  However, there's more to this than   
meets the eye, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of this." 

        Scully smiled.  She could feel Mulder's excitement, just like she   
felt the excitement of the upcoming hunt.  It was exhilarating... the   
creative juices flowing, the adrenaline pumping, the search...  It was one   
of the main reasons she wouldn't want to give up the X-Files if they   
offered her the post of Director tomorrow morning.  Paperwork was dull.   
The X-Files were *never* dull.  Plus, there was the added bonus of having   
a gorgeous, single partner to work with.  There were *definite* advantages   
there.  If only... 

        Dana sighed softly and settled back in her seat as images of what   
shouldn't be began forming in her mind.  For once she was glad Mulder was   
driving.  This way, she had the luxury of thinking up a new fantasy...   
Great!  Another one to add to the long, unfulfilled list she already   
carried around insider her heart. 

********** 

        "Hey, Huey!  Can we see your notes on the B&E case from a couple   
of weeks ago?" 

        "Which one, Vecchio?  I'm a busy cop, unlike yourself..." 

        "Ha! Ha! Very funny...  Come on... you know the one I'm talking   
about.  The B&E that had the prints from the robber in our assault cause." 

        "Why should I give them to you?" 

        "Because I asked so nicely." 

        "In your dreams Vecchio... it's *my* case, and I'm not going to   
let you and that Mountie anywhere near it." 

        "Wanna bet?" 

        "What do you mean?" 

        "It ain't yours, Huey.  Oh, and guess what... it's not mine either." 

        "Do you care to say that in English, Vecchio?  If it's not mine,   
and it's not yours, then whose is it?" 

        "Ours." 

        Detective Huey looked up from his latest case file to see a man's   
face near his.  He moved back, uncomfortable from the closeness... this   
man had a way of invading personal spaces and making people fidget.   
Gathering himself, he bristled back at the man... who was obviously tall,   
thin, and had a pair of penetrating hazel eyes. 

        "And you would  be?" 

        "Agent Mulder." 

        The man straightened himself, stepped back, and circled his arm   
around a petite redhead.  A *hot* petite redhead. 

        "And this is my partner, agent Scully.  Oh, and in case you hadn't   
guessed, we're from the FBI, and this case is now under our jurisdiction." 

        Huey gave a crooked smile.  Half of it was for the fact that he   
resented having cases pulled out from under him.  However, the other half   
was because he *knew* how much Vecchio hated Fibbies.  It was well worth   
it to give up the rights to this case, just to see Vecchio squirm.  This   
way, he wouldn't be involved, but would get all the advantages of the   
spectator. 

        "By all means!  Here's the case."  He dug into a pile of folders   
on his desk and quickly pulled out the appropriate one, handing it to the   
lanky agent.  Then he sat back, crossed his hands behind his head, and   
watched the show unfold. 

        Mulder and Scully retreated to a corner of the room, hunching over   
the folder, glancing over the crime scene photos, and reading the details   
of the break-in.  There was nothing unusual about it.  The family hadn't   
been home.  Someone had snuck to the door of the house, used a crowbar to   
open the door, had gotten about 5 feet into the house when they must have   
seen the silent alarm indicator going off.  They ran away from the house,   
and were nowhere to be found when the police arrived on the scene.  A   
forensics team had lifted some prints off the dropped crowbar, and on the   
door frame.  They matched known prints, and a full-scale search of the   
neighbourhood had revealed nothing. 

        Mulder sighed heavily, and looked towards his partner. 

        "We still don't know anything, Scully.  We have no clear   
description of our suspect, where he might be hiding, or what his next   
move will be.  What are we supposed to do now?" 

        Scully answered his sigh with one of her own. 

        "I don't know Mulder.  All we can do is wait.  Our suspect   
obviously has a pattern of repeated crimes, and will strike again.  In the   
meantime, I do *not* want to remain inactive.  I say we analyze his points   
of attack, to see if there might be a discernible pattern.  Something to   
help us predict who his next victim will be." 

        Mulder smiled.  His partner's mind was always thinking.  Somehow,   
when one of the two got discouraged, it was always the other one who'd   
bring them back up, thinking, yearning for the truth, for answers.  He   
wondered how he'd ever worked without her.  He didn't want to think of   
what would happen if he lost her. 

        Inevitably, as with every time his mind went down this road, he   
remembered when she'd been taken away from him.  When he'd found himself   
alone to face the world, with only his imagination to guide him as to   
where she might be... what might be happening to her... what *they* would   
be doing to her... the tests... the pain... 

        He closed his eyes, unable to bear the thought.  Feeling again as   
he had during that time.  Desperate, wild, uncaring.  He hadn't been able   
to sleep, and he had lost his appetite.  Basic grooming seemed beyond his   
capability, and he'd let his beard grow.  He wouldn't comb his hair, and   
barely remembered to put on clean shirts.  There had been no point to   
life.  In fact, when he thought about it, he'd probably had a death wish   
at the time.  That would have explained Kristen.  She had wanted to die,   
and engaged in activities to get her wish.  Blood sports, unprotected sex,   
meeting strange men in dark, isolated areas.  He'd found her carelessness,   
her quiet desperation, fascinating.  So much mirroring his own.  It had   
been so easy to lose himself for a few hours... to forget about everything   
happening in his life.  To blot out the pain of missing Scully.  All for a   
short moment of carnal pleasure.  Meaningless.  Dangerous.  Deadly. 

        And then she'd left too.  Killing herself.  He still wasn't sure   
why, and he preferred not to try and figure it out.  There were too many   
variables. 

        Had she at least found the solace she so desperately needed? 

        He'd gone back home.  Still desperate.  Still missing Scully so   
much it hurt to breathe.  Torn between the idea of letting her go and   
clinging fiercely to the hope that she would return.  Once, a long time   
ago, he'd worked alone.  Used to the solitude.  Craved it.  Wanting to be   
accepted, but understanding that it wouldn't happen.  He'd work alone, in   
the shadows, seeking out the truth that most people couldn't even begin to   
fathom.  Those who relished calling him Spooky...  they didn't understand.   
They probably feared him.  He hadn't cared.  He could take them all!  And   
then it had all changed, in a single afternoon, after a short knock on his   
door.  She'd walked into his life and changed everything. 

        So why hadn't he told her how much he loved her when she'd come   
back to him?  Why had he given her that goofy gift?  The one he'd found at   
the corner store as he raced over to the hospital.  Superstars of the   
Super bowl.  Yup.  Just what every woman needs.  "I knew there was a   
reason to live."  Oh, how that phrase had washed over him.  So unexpected,   
yet so meaningful.  Lifting a weight off his shoulders he hadn't even been   
aware he'd been carrying.  Telling him, between the lines, how important   
he was to her.  He'd been sure of it.  He was still sure of it now.  And   
when he'd given her back the cross... it had been magical.  The final sign   
that all was going to be fine. 

        Mulder smiled to himself.  *Fine*.  That's her word.  The one she   
always uses, even when she isn't fine.  The word that says 'If I wanted to   
tell you something's wrong, I would.  She was so strong.  Despite her   
hardships.  Despite losing her family, having been kidnapped and near   
death countless times, she was strong.  Stubborn.  Oh, *definitely*   
stubborn.  But kind.  She always forgave his mistakes.  The countless   
times he'd run away, 'ditched' her for something more important.  The   
Arctic and that pilot, that train with the alien hybrid.  Countless times.   
He felt ashamed remembering how many times there had been.  **It has to   
stop,** he told himself.  **I won't do that anymore.** 

        And finally, as always, when the turmoil of emotions gripped him,   
he felt the most important thing of all.  Love.  He wondered when he'd   
first fallen in love with her.  It was hard to pinpoint a time.  Had it   
been the first time he'd seen her?  The first time she'd risked her life   
for him?  That conversation in the car?  One of the countless times he'd   
woken up in the hospital to see her face smiling down at him?  It didn't   
matter.  All that *really* mattered was that he knew how he felt about   
her.  And one day... when the situation improved... when they brought down   
Cancerman... *Then*!  Then they'd be able to do more than just say it.   
They'd hold each other and never let go.  He'd press his lips to hers, and   
let himself drown in the tidal wave... 

        "Are you hearing any of this, Mulder?  Mulder?  Mulder.... MULDER!" 

        He jumped.  Her voice cut through his musings.  Obviously she'd   
been talking to him, but he hadn't heard a word she'd said. 

        "I'm sorry.  What were you saying?" 

        "Mulder are you alright?  You zoned out for a minute.  Are you sick?" 

        Scully reached out to touch his forehead, fearing he might have a   
fever.  She hadn't seen him act like this very often, and it usually meant   
he was sick.  He flinched at her touch, but didn't back away.  She felt   
her own brow furrow from worry as she checked his temperature.  He seemed   
fine.  He didn't have a fever, but his pulse was rather rapid.  And why   
had he been staring at her so intently while she'd talked to him earlier?   
He hadn't heard a word she'd said.  Of that she was sure.  What was going   
on? 

        Slowly, she withdrew her hand from his forehead. 

        "No.  No fever.  How are you feeling?" 

        "I'm fine Scully." 

        She smiled at that.  How often had she used that line on him?   
Well, even if he weren't fine, she knew she should respect his decision   
and not pry. 

        "Okay then, Mulder.  Now, what do you think about my idea?" 

        He grinned sheepishly.  Obviously he hadn't heard anything she'd   
said in the last two minutes.  Sighing softly, she repeated what she'd had   
to say. 

        "I think that we should search the databanks for any crimes   
committed by our suspect in the last two years.  Something that might   
indicate his style.  Now, I'll take care of mapping the geographical   
location of his attacks, and you take care of the chronology of the   
attacks.  Hopefully, we'll be able to come up with some sort of pattern   
that will allow us to narrow down the area of the next attack.  If we're   
lucky, we might even be able to predict his next victim.  What do you   
think?" 

        He gave her his warmest smile. 

        "I think great minds think alike, Scully.  Why don't you look up   
those records, and when you find them, I'll come along and help you sort   
them out. Okay?" 

        She grabbed him by the lapels as he tried to turn away. 

        "Just one second.  Where do you think you're going?" 

        "Uh... well... I was hoping to go take a walk to clear my head." 

        "And leave me here to do all the archive work?  I don't think so.   
Come on, Mulder.  You take 1994-1995, and I'll take 1995-1996." 

        He groaned, but followed her to the records room. 

        "Scully, I'll hold you personally responsible if I make a mess on   
the floor.  You *know* these things make me seasick.  And me without my   
Dramamine." 

        He gave her his best pout and she barely suppressed a smile.  Yes,   
he was feeling better.  Whatever had crossed his mind earlier was now   
buried somewhere deep in his psyche, and he was back on track.  Now, if   
only she could figure out what was bothering him... 

        Well, she might be able to.  Once they'd solved the case, and   
shoveled away the tons of paperwork afterwards.  What was it she'd said   
about the X-Files being fun and less paperwork? 

************** 

        "Okay, this is what I've got... All the attacks have taken place   
on the south side.  They're clustered in this region, and only   
occasionally has he moved outside this territory.  I think our best bet is   
to increase the patrols in this region." 

        "I agree, Scully.  I've also found out that the crimes are   
clustered in groups of four.  We've seen two so far... Miss Kuhn's attack   
and the breaking and entering.  We have two to go for now.  Otherwise, we   
may have to wait six months before he strikes again." 

        "Well, that should leave us with some leverage, Mulder.  Have you   
observed anything about the order of the crimes?" 

        "No.  Unfortunately, Scully, while the criminal is quite regular   
about his timing, his types of crimes are random.  I sifted through them   
for an hour, and couldn't find any pattern.  No order I could detect." 

        "Well, Mulder, maybe you didn't look hard enough." 

        He stopped and stared at her, startled by her last statement. 

        "Really?" 

        "Yes." 

        She tried not to look smug.  She *really* tried, but in the end a   
smile began to edge its way onto her face.  He was looking at her with a   
different look.  Definitely respect.  He was the profiler, the one who got   
into criminal's minds.  She was the pathologist.  It wasn't that she   
wasn't intelligent, but it wasn't her habit to do this.  His esteem for   
her had just increased yet again. 

        "Well, don't just leave me in suspense, Scully.  Do tell!" 

        She smiled warmly.  She'd been afraid he'd have felt jealousy.   
After all, *he* was the one who almost always intuited what the criminal   
would do next.  He was the one with the nickname. 

        "I did find a pattern.  The difference is that it's not one of   
repetition, but rather lack thereof..." 

        "I'm listening." 

        "I've noted that for each crime spree, of the four crimes, none   
was ever repeated.  Only one assault, one breaking and entering,  one   
robbery, one store theft, or one of whatever other crime he's committed.   
In this spree, we've had one assault and one breaking and entering, so I   
hypothesize that we don't have to worry about these types of crimes in the   
near future." 

        Mulder nodded slowly. 

        "I agree.  So, any suggestions on what the next crime might be?" 

        "Well, no, but I do have a feeling it might be a crime in a   
business, so we should keep more patrols on the two or three streets which   
have a high business ratio." 

        "A *feeling*, Scully?" 

        "An educated guess, Mulder." 

        He leaned in towards her ear, lowered his tone, and smiled as he spoke. 

        "Sure, Scully." 

        He left her there, still shivering from the effects of his low,   
sultry tone as he walked out of the archives and back to the bullpen. 

************** 

        "You expect me to suddenly dispatch half the force to patrol less   
than a dozen streets?" 

        "That would be right, sir." 

        "Did the Mountie put you up to this, Vecchio?" 

        "Uh, no sir." 

        "Then who?" 

        Ray tried not to fidget in front of his superior, Lieutenant   
Welsh.  This man had a way of speaking to his detectives as if they were   
only two inches tall, and Vecchio was not immune to it. 

        "It's the FBI agents sir.  They have a suspicion that the next   
attempt will be on one of the commercial streets on the south side, and   
they requested our help by increasing patrols." 

        "Oh.  Well, that puts a whole different spin on things.   
Alright... I'll allow four extra cars to patrol the area, but no more." 

        "But sir, they asked for at least a dozen..." 

        "I said *four* cars, Vecchio.  And if you're still in my office in   
five seconds, it's going down to three." 

        "I'm a breeze, sir..." 

************ 

        Three pairs of eyes looked up to see Vecchio rush out of his   
supervisor's office.  He walked towards his desk, where his Canadian   
friend and the two FBI agents were waiting for him. 

        Mulder was the first to speak. 

        "Well?" 

        "Lieutenant Welsh was unable to secure as many cars as you asked,   
but he was able to promise four extra cars to patrol the area." 

        Mulder's anger flared.  There was a dangerous criminal on the   
loose, and he had expected full cooperation.  He started to take a step   
towards the Lieutenant's office, intent on letting him know just what he   
thought of the decision when he was stopped by a hand reaching for his   
arm.  He turned back to see Scully restraining him.  He was about to   
comment when he was interrupted by another voice. 

        "I'm sure that we can find a respectable addendum to the local   
police force's help.  I'm willing to help in any way I can, and I could   
speak to my superior.  As a sign of goodwill, I'm certain she could spare   
a few of our men to help in the stakeout." 

        "That's very generous of you, Constable Fraser," Scully said,   
giving him a grateful smile.  She looked at Mulder and gave him a stern   
look, making sure he reacted in a similar manner. 

        "Yes, I must agree with my partner.  Any help we can get in   
stalking and arresting this criminal will be greatly appreciated," Mulder   
added, doing his best to get his mind back on the case. 

        "You don't have to thank me.  It's only natural.  After all, we're   
all sworn to defend citizens." 

************ 

        Scully got off the phone, after having ascertained that the local   
Bureau office would supply six sets of partners to help the stakeout. 

        She got back to Vecchio's desk, where the three men were finishing   
up working on a patrol route. 

        "Now that we've agreed on the route to take, I suggest we retreat   
for the evening, to prepare for tomorrow," Mulder instructed, eyeing the   
two men next to him and his approaching partner, "and meet here tomorrow   
at 8 am.  This will give us a chance to rest, and prepare.  Tomorrow   
morning, we'll brief the patrolmen and every agent and detective who will   
be assisting with the patrol." 

        He hesitated for a second before continuing. 

        "I assume that you understand that we are not to wear our regular   
uniforms.  We will be undercover, so we need to look as inconspicuous as   
possible.  So wear regular clothes." 

        Mulder looked at Fraser, inspecting his red serge uniform.  In the   
two days he'd been here, the man had never once worn anything else, and he   
wondered if he *owned* anything else. 

        Fraser noticed the inspection, and cleared his throat. 

        "That will be no problem, agent Mulder.  I assume jeans and a   
shirt are sufficiently common clothes?" 

        Fraser noted Mulder's acquiescing nod and extended to shake his   
hand, gave Scully a quick nod, adding a low "Ma'am", and then patted Ray   
on the shoulder as a good-bye before turning away and walking off. 

        Ray settled into his chair and looked up at the agents, who   
gathered their things and left after a few minutes, giving a quick   
good-bye. 

************ 

        The knock on the door startled Scully.  She'd just settled into   
her room for the evening, switching her laptop on to write up her evening   
addendum to her field journal, and had been contemplating going to the   
hotel bar and ordering a nice soothing cup of herbal tea when the knock   
had come. 

        "Who is it?" 

        "Michael Crichton." 

        She smiled as she moved to open the door. 

        "You know, Mulder, you're going to have to come up with something   
a little more original...  First Steven Speilberg, now this?  If you'd at   
least said you were some sexy Hollywood star, I *might* have opened the   
door more enthusiastically." 

        He gave her a silly grin. 

        "You mean you *didn't* think I was the world-famous author?" 

        "No, I thought you were the world famous pain in the   
'you-know-what' partner of mine coming to disturb me.  Guess I wasn't   
wrong." 

        "Awwww Scully.  That hurts.  And to think I was going to invite   
you to go out and run with me." 

        "So now you're not?" 

        "Depends.  Would you say yes?" 

        "You won't know until you ask me." 

        "Okay.  I'm asking.  Do you want to go for a run?  I thought it   
might be a good thing to go by the commercial district one more time   
before we make the final revisions on our surveillance plan later   
tonight." 

        She surprised them both by saying yes.  She left him to turn off   
her computer and find himself somewhere to sit while she grabbed a pair of   
jogging pants and shoes, and a sweatshirt, and headed off to the bathroom   
to change.  He was sitting in a big stuffed chair when she came back into   
the main room. 

        "Ready?"  He asked, and he got up out of the chair when she   
nodded.  They headed out the door and walked down to the sidewalk near the   
motel, where they stopped and did a few basic stretches before heading off   
towards the direction of the commercial district.  He let her set the   
pace, unsure of just how fast she could run.  She picked a good pace, easy   
for him to follow, and not to fast so that she'd run out of steam early.   
It felt good to be running next to him.  Their feet pounding the pavement   
in a complementary pattern, just like the way they complemented each other   
so well at work.  Their breathing coming just fast enough to prevent easy   
conversation, allowing them to enjoy each other's company without the need   
for words.  They ran this way for seven blocks until they reached the   
commercial district, where Mulder slowed down and signaled for her to   
follow suit. 

        They came to a stop at the corner of the street, and she looked up   
to his face, curious to know why he'd made them stop.  He pointed down a   
street, and between rapid breaths, indicated he thought they should start   
in that direction, and then weave their way back through the parallel   
streets, in order to cover all the territory and get a final 'feel' for   
the area.  She nodded her agreement and followed him as he started up   
again, choosing a slower pace to enable them ample time to observe the   
neighbourhood, notice alleys, hiding spaces, areas where attacks could   
easily take place, businesses that were more at risk, and so on.  Twenty   
minutes later, they had covered the area and were ready to go back to the   
motel.  Scully turned to move towards the home stretch when she suddenly   
felt Mulder's hand on her arm, pulling her in another direction.  She   
looked at him quizzically, but when his face remained impassive she simply   
shrugged and went along.  They jogged a few blocks when they came across a   
nice, fairly well-lit park where a few of the city dwellers were enjoying   
a leisurely autumn stroll.  He chose a path and they followed it.  A few   
hundred yards later, the path turned into a wooded area, which was lit   
here and there with park lamps.   
    
       They jogged in silence through the trees, and Scully decided to   
take a second to try and read Mulder's expression, to see what he was   
thinking.  She turned to glance up at his face, which was relaxed but not   
really registering any easily readable emotion, and at that precise moment   
she stepped on a root which made her lose her balance and fall forward.   
Mulder, who heard her gasp as she tripped, moved on instinct and tried to   
catch her.  However, as he leaned his arms out to catch her, he caught his   
foot in the same root that she had tripped on, and only managed to wrap   
his arms around her before they both tumbled to the ground, himself on the   
bottom.  She fell heavily on him, and he felt the air rush out of his   
lungs as her elbow accidentally struck his diaphragm.  He took a few   
seconds to fight for a breath before he looked up to her. 

        "Are you okay?"  They simultaneously asked, then answered, "Yes"   
in the same manner.  They both looked at each other and started laughing   
at the perfect synchronicity of their questions and answers.  This   
situation was just ludicrous.  Scully tried to move off Mulder, but his   
arms were still wrapped around her, so she only managed to press her elbow   
into his diaphragm again, letting herself drop back down and giving him a   
contrite look after hearing his sudden release of air. 

        "Mulder, let go of me so I can get up." 

        He didn't respond right away, so she asked again.  When he again   
did not move, she turned her head more fully towards him, about to ask him   
why he wasn't moving when she suddenly got a good look at his expression.   
His gaze was intently set on her face, and his eyes were smouldering.  She   
stared back, mesmerized.  For endless seconds they simply looked at each   
other, suddenly aware of how much of each one was touching the other.   
Unsure what to do, or how to react.  Fascinated by the way the other was   
staring, softly moving against the other with each breath.  It was Mulder   
who moved first, slowly bringing his arm up her back until he'd reached   
her head, and brushed the hair out of her face to get a clearer view of   
Scully.  He caressed her cheek, and moved his hand back to lace his   
fingers through her hair.  Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought her lips to   
his and placed a chaste kiss.  Unable to lose contact with her, he held   
her head so that their lips never lost touch.  He was still breathing hard   
and so was she.  The breaths coming out of their slightly open mouths   
mingled, allowing them a slight taste of each other without the need for   
further contact. 

        It felt so good.  It was the first time they'd touched this way   
since the night he'd come to her apartment in a panic and pressed her up   
against the wall, unsure of her real identity.  It was only the second   
situation where they'd ever kissed.  It wasn't supposed to happen.  It   
wasn't a good idea.  But at this specific instant, the world could have   
self-destructed around them and they wouldn't have been aware, as   
engrossed in each other as they were. 

        It was he who broke the silence. 

        "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" 

        "Oh, I have a good idea." 

        She started leaning in towards him when the sound of a wayward owl   
startled both of them.  Suddenly aware that, despite being in the woods,   
they were still in a public park, they gave each other a quick look,   
cleared their throats and managed to untangle their limbs.  As quietly as   
possible, they stood up and faced each other, wearing contrite looks on   
their faces.  They both knew that they had decided not to pursue a   
relationship, despite their feelings for each other, but in times like   
this it was especially painful to keep their distance. 

        "Uhm.....  I guess we'd better get back to the hotel.  We've got   
some last-minute re-checking to make sure our stakeout stays a well-oiled   
machine." 

        "It's nice to see you so optimistic, Mulder." 

        He just gave her an enigmatic smile and turned towards the way   
they had just come. 

        "I'll race you back, Scully." 

        "You're on, Mulder, but... hold on a second!" 

        "What?" 

        "Oh, nothing.  Wait!  What's that?" 

        "What?" 

        As he turned his head, she pushed him down and took off towards   
the direction of the hotel, running with all her might.  It took four   
blocks before he caught up with her, but when he did, he simply glared at   
her and moved on. 

********** 

        It felt weird, to be walking hand in hand along the sidewalk.   
Scully's mind couldn't quite compute the implications.  Here they were,   
walking together, holding hands like any normal couple, under the watchful   
eye of their coworkers, and it was allowed!  Why hadn't she thought of   
doing undercover work before? 

        Mulder, for his part, had a silly grin plastered across his face,   
as he sneaked looks her way, winking from time to time.  Nope.  This was   
too good to be true.  He could almost read her mind.  Not that it was   
hard, that contented look on her face was hard to miss.  Well, it wasn't   
that easy to see, but with years of practice at trying to decipher her   
expressions, it was right there, painted in neon letters across her   
forehead.  She was enjoying this.  Maybe even a little too much.  For the   
millionth time that morning he gave her hand a squeeze and winked in her   
direction before sweeping the area with another glance. 

        They stopped at a storefront, using the reflection on the window   
to try and see if anything was happening behind them.  Within his ear, he   
heard the FBI agent who was coordinating the operations from the   
surveillance van ask to get a vocal report, and he responded, leaning in   
towards Scully to pretend like he was whispering something in her ear.   
That resulted in a slight involuntary shiver which she did not seem able   
to suppress, and he chuckled silently at the effect his voice had on her.   
**Gee, I wonder what would happen if I whispered something good in her   
ear...** 

        Mulder almost leaned over to do so when he remembered the wire he   
was wearing.  Nope, not a good idea.  The last thing they needed was to   
tell the whole Bureau *and* the Chicago PD what was happening between   
then.  Darn wires.  He pouted, but thanked his lucky stars for equipment   
so small it could be hidden from view.  Unconsciously, his thoughts   
drifted to the last time he'd use this type of equipment and stopped   
himself... Duane Barry... **Better not go there... at least not right   
now.**  Okay.... how about another type of surveillance equipment?   
Modell.  Better not go there either.  Sighing softly, he made a mental   
effort to keep his mind off of the past and concentrated on the present,   
and his surroundings.  He could not allow himself to be distracted. 

        He turned towards his partner as she gave his hand a squeeze. 

        "Mulder, I think we've got a problem." 

        "What?" 

        "See that shopkeeper over there?" 

        She pointed towards one of the merchants on the opposite side of   
the street, who was standing at the door of his business. 

        "Yes." 

        "Well, this is the fourth time we pass this street in the last two   
hours, and he's been staring at us the last two times.  Looks like he's   
getting suspicious.  Any suggestions?" 

        "Change of route?  For a while?" 

        A voice broke into both their right ears...  "Uh... 'fraid not,   
guys.  We can't afford to change routes right now.  You'll have to think   
of something else." 

        "Gotcha, Fred.  We'll think of something else," Mulder replied. 

        "Any ideas?"  Scully asked him, a hopeful look on her face. 

        "Oh, plenty." 

        "Such as?" 

        "Why don't we move along and I'll fill you in on the next round." 

        "Uh oh, Mulder.  Don't look now, but he's trying to cross the   
street.  I think he wants to talk to us." 

        "Great!" 

        Mulder's exasperated tone only lasted a second, and the speed of   
his change in attitude left Scully speechless as she felt him forcefully   
push her against the wall and saw him lowering his head to hers. 

        "Mul- Wha-?" 

        That was all she had the time to say before his lips closed over   
hers. 

        The world disappeared.  It went somewhere, but Scully just wasn't   
mentally apt to guess where at the moment.  It was all she could do to   
stand upright.  Thankfully, the wall and Mulder's hands on her waist   
helped her.  Well, that and the fact that he was pressed solidly against   
her.  The passion of his kiss both frightened and excited her.  The fear   
of being watched still was too great for her to feel comfortable, but she   
was definitely beginning to like this.  Oh yes.  She could get used to   
this.  It was addictive, that touch of his.  A drug she would willingly   
take every chance she got.  Nothing felt more comfortable than to be in   
his arms.  Nothing felt more natural.  It was like breathing. 

        **Speaking of which,** her lungs reminded her, **isn't it about   
time you take a breath?** 

        Scully broke away first, breathing heavily and putting her hands   
onto Mulder's shoulders.  He eased down a bit, wrapping his arms tightly   
around her, placing his face against her right ear.  It felt and looked   
like a comfortable hug, but as she suddenly glimpsed a view of the street   
from over his shoulders, she realized he was purposefully giving her a   
chance to see what was happening. 

        "Well?"  He whispered to her, as she felt his warm breath against   
her ear, ruffling her hair. 

        "Looks like we scared him off, Mulder.  He's no longer on the   
street, and probably went back into his store." 

        "Take a quick look around.  Is anything unusual happening?" 

        She craned her neck and did her best to survey the immediate area. 

        "Except for us, no." 

        "Welcome back to planet earth," Fred's voice broke in. "We thought   
that both of you would pass out from lack of oxygen for a minute.  Should   
I congratulate you on your acting?" 

        "I knew there was a reason why I'd taken all those performing arts   
classes in college," Mulder cracked wryly, giving a nice performance for   
the surveillance team, while sneaking a secret wink in Scully's direction. 

        "I must say, you are excellent at taking the lead, Mulder.  I   
didn't have the time to see that one coming." 

        "Was it good for you, agent Scully?"  Fred teased. 

        "I don't know, Fred.  Tell you what... We'll get Mulder to try his   
technique on you, and then we can compare notes, okay?" 

        That shut him up.  Fast.  Scully barely suppressed a giggle as she   
imagined the shade of red Fred must have turned.  Mulder was more   
successful at controlling his laughter, but the grin on his face said it   
all. 

        "You know, Scully... I think I'll just take your word for it." 

        "Your loss, Fred." 

        Scully looked at Mulder, amazed at his last answer.  Oh, she knew   
he had a sense of humour, but this was too much.  She doubled over in   
laughter, unable to stop herself.  Mulder pulled her into the nearest   
alley, quieting her for a moment, and then they both burst into a fit of   
laughter, taking a long moment to get back in control. 

        "Hey, guys... I don't mean to be a spoilsport... but we *are*   
trying to catch a criminal." 

        That sobered them up fast. 

        "Sorry, Fred," Scully replied, working hard to get into control   
and to stop the blush that was creeping up her face. 

        "Okay, Scully... ready?" 

        Mulder reached out with his hand, waiting for her to grasp it, and   
then they exited the alley, moving along their planned route.  Two blocks   
later, they reached the surveillance van and slowed down.  Looking all   
around, they checked to make sure no one was watching before opening the   
side door and stepping in. 

        "Well, if it isn't the two lovebirds," Fred teased, his smile and   
the gleam in his eye an added taunt. 

        "Come here, sweetheart," Mulder replied, making a move to pull   
Fred to him. 

        "Not on your life!" 

        Fred looked genuinely scared for a second, before turning a deep   
shade of crimson and mumbling something as he moved back to the consoles.   
  

********** 

  The teams were rotating their lunch breaks, and it was Ray and   
Benny's turn.  As they drove towards one of their favourite diners, Ray   
felt the need to comment on the surveillance. 

        "We're wasting our time, 'Fra-zier'... 

        "Why do you say that, Ray?" 

        "We're sitting ducks... waiting for something to happen.  I'm   
sorry, but every instinct in me says we should be out there... pounding   
the pavement, asking our contacts.  We've got a criminal on the loose.  We   
can't just stand around waiting for something to happen!" 

        "Well, actually, I've done some checking on their backgrounds and   
agents Mulder and Scully are quite capable.  They're both intelligent,   
dedicated, and their solve rate is one most everyone would like to have.   
He used to do criminal profiles, and he was renowned for his accuracy.  In   
fact it earned him a nickname." 

        "Oh really?  What?" 

        "Well, I don't think it would be appropriate to repeat it.  I   
mean, it's not nice to disseminate such information." 

        "Fraser, if you didn't want me to know you shouldn't have started   
talking about it." 

        "Well, I'm sorry, Ray.  It's just that I believe, from what I   
learned, that agent Mulder is sensitive about the alias, so I think it's   
best if we let this go." 

        "Let what go?  You didn't even *tell* me!" 

        "Yes, I know.  I'm sorry Ray.  I'm going to have to take a firm   
stand on this." 

        "Oh yeah, like you ever take a firm stand on anything, Fraser.  Do   
I have to remind you of the incident about your uniform?" 

        "That's not true.  I did take a firm stand at the end of that   
incident, and if I must remind you, I *was* dismissed." 

        "Oh yeah?  Then why are you still working?" 

        "I don't know, Ray.  But I'm still wearing my uniform." 

        "Good point." 

        Ray backed off, realizing he wasn't arguing for the right reasons.   
It was the frustration of the day, not his friend's actions, that were   
the reason for his bad mood.  He felt he should apologize, but he knew   
that Benton realised what was happening and wasn't taking this personally.   
  

        He stopped for a second, remembering a conversation they'd had   
when his Mountie friend had lost his memory on a recent case.  When Benny   
had asked him why they were friends, he'd been hard-pressed to give an   
answer.  There was no easy response for that one.  It was just that they   
seemed to work so well together.  They understood each other without   
saying anything.  As he'd once said...'I mean it's one of those special   
cases where alone we're incomplete but together we're better than we are   
separately.'  It was true.  They *did* complement each other.  It was a   
special bond.  Something you don't see often.  Something that some   
partners just have.  **In fact,** he suddenly thought, **those two FBI   
partners had the same type of bond.** 

        **Well, okay, not quite the same bond,** he admitted.  **There's   
more to it than that in their case.  Yes, they complement each other, and   
communicate without words just like Benny and me, but there's something   
more.  Something I can't quite put my finger on.** 

        Ray continued in silence, contemplating what could be different   
about the Fibbies.  He had a hard time categorizing it.  It wasn't just   
because they were a man/woman team.  Sure, he'd seen some sparks fly   
between such pairs, but there was something else here...  It was almost as   
if they were... soulmates.  *Nah....* He told himself.  *That's not it, is   
it?*  However, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that   
this was it.  It was as if some metaphysical bond had been formed between   
the two of them, linking them forever.  He had a distinct feeling that if   
one were to die, the other would not survive.  Not for long, anyway.   
Which was too bad, because he thought that Dana Scully was *definitely* a   
looker. 

        "Hey, Benny...  What do you think about those two agents?" 

        "Which ones, Ray?  Agents Scully and Mulder?" 

        "Yeah." 

        "Well, I don't know.  They seem very professional, rather   
open-minded - especially him - and they work well together." 

        "Yeah, yeah... but what about *her*?  What do you think of her?" 

        "She's quite intelligent, strong-willed, well-trained ---" 

        "But what about her looks?  Wouldn't you like to have her for   
yourself?" 

        The silence in the Riv stretched for a long minute.  Ray wasn't   
quite sure what Benny was thinking about, so he ventured a look in his   
partner's direction.  At the sight, he willed himself not to snicker.   
Benny was blushing.  Oh, only slightly, but enough for him to know that he   
was thinking about something to do with women.  However, he knew his   
friend well enough to wonder if he was thinking about the lovely agent   
Scully, or his impetuous supervisor, Meg Thatcher (or as Ray liked to call   
her, The Dragon Lady). 

        "Penny for your thoughts, Benny." 

        "Huh?  Oh, I wasn't thinking of anything important." 

        "Yeah right.  Guess that flush I noticed on your face was due to   
this balmy November weather.  Come on, spill!  You were thinking about   
Dana Scully, weren't you?" 

        "Well, yes, Ray.  But not in the way you're implying." 

        "She's hot isn't she?" 

        "You could say that, but there would be no point in trying to   
pursue it." 

        "Why not?" 

        "It would seem to me like she's already spoken for." 

        Ray smiled.  So Ben saw it too?  Good.  He was glad to know that   
he wasn't the only one. 

        "You mean she's fallen for me, Fraser?" 

        "At the risk of hurting your ego, no she hasn't, Ray.  Haven't you   
seen the way she looks at her partner?  I think no other man alive stands   
the chance of ever winning her heart." 

        Ray sighed.  "It's too bad." 

        He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he heard Benny sighing   
too.  But when he turned to look at his friend, the Mountie had regained   
his composure and was unreadable. 

********** 

        "You know, Mulder, I think we should have planned our surveillance   
better.  Don't you think that a nice cushy car for a stakeout would have   
been better than this?  My feet are starting to hurt." 

        Mulder winked in her direction. 

        "Nag, nag, nag." 

        He cringed slightly, expecting a physical blow, but instead   
getting her 'Oh, you're going to regret that' look.  Changing tack, he   
looked around quickly and formulated a plan. 

        "Hey, Scully.  Tell you what.  Why don't we stop at the terrace on   
that corner.  We're ahead of our schedule as far as walking around is   
concerned, and I'll buy you a cappuccino.  It'll be just like that   
annoying TV show." 

        She laughed.  "Okay, but I insist on paying for the coffees.   
After all, you're probably the one who's suffering the most.  You must   
feel sore after falling while jogging last night." 

        He gave her a look to show he hadn't forgotten about that, and his   
eyes held a hint of a promise.  One she wasn't glad to see.  She knew   
she'd have to pay for pushing him down at one point or another.  She just   
hoped it would be sooner or later, because the stress of waiting for   
something to happen wouldn't be very good for her health. 

        "Aww... Isn't that sweet," Mulder said in honeyed tones, " I'm   
glad you're so worried about my health." 

        He grasped her arm tighter and practically dragged her forward as   
he picked up the pace towards the cafe, knowing she'd have a hard time   
following.   
  

        A few minutes later they were seated at a table, surveying the   
neighbourhood and sipping their hot drinks.  Mulder sweeped the immediate   
area and, content that no one was paying attention to them, he began to   
lightly kick Scully's feet, stopping once in a while to wrap his foot   
around her ankle.  Looking up to his partner's face, he winked. 

        Scully stared at him, wide-eyed.  To say she was shocked would   
have been an understatement.  Mulder was playing *footsies*??????  In   
public???????  She wasn't sure which of the two behaviours was surprising   
her the most, but she was flabbergasted. 

        "Mulder..." She tried to warn him.  He just ignored her, moving   
his foot up to her calf muscle, slowly dragging it up and down the back of   
her leg, soothing the soreness there.  She wanted to stop him, she knew it   
was inappropriate behaviour, especially on duty, but she just couldn't get   
herself to mouth the words to make him stop. 

        It turned out that he stopped on his own, and just as Scully was   
taking a deep breath, thankful for the interruption of physical contact,   
he leaned in and asked her if her feet were still sore. 

        "Why, Mulder?" 

        "Well, we wouldn't want you having to walk all this distance with   
sore feet.  I'll tell you what... take off your shoes, that should help   
relieve some of the pain." 

        She thought that was a good idea, so she unlaced her shoes and   
quickly slipped them off.  It did help, and she gave a sigh of   
contentment, which turned into a yelp of surprise as he reached for her   
right foot and brought it up into his lap.  He smiled and looked straight   
into her eyes as he began to massage her foot. 

        Magic.  There was no other word to describe what she felt as his   
strong, agile fingers began to knead and stroke, working out the tension   
and the pain of the long walk.  He found all the sore areas, soothing and   
relaxing them, somehow managing to skim over her ticklish spots so quickly   
she didn't have time to react.  She felt the tension in her body begin to   
dissipate, and a slow buzz began in her head as she leaned back in her   
chair and closed her eyes.  So far, she had managed to hold back from   
moaning her approval at the movements of his hands, but it was getting   
harder to do.  To try and counter this, she concentrated on her   
respiration.  After all, people were listening in on them.   
        In.  Out.  In. Out.  She took long, soothing breaths, counting   
slowly as she inhaled and exhaled.  *That's it, Dana.  Don't think about   
those hands... concentrate on your breathing... your foot is not attached   
to your body... you're not feeling the sparks of electricity shooting out   
from his contact... they're not pooling in your stomach... you're not   
feeling the tension in your abdomen... there isn't any heat building...   
breathe... breathe...* 

        She opened her eyes as she realized how her thoughts had gone   
dangerously close to somewhere she didn't want to go.  Unconsciously she   
flicked her eyes up to her partner's.  Well, that was a mistake.  She   
forgot to breathe.  His eyes had gone dark.  The intensity of his gaze was   
hypnotic as it bore into hers, communicating every feeling, every desire.   
It was a look that said he'd like to just take her right now, on the   
table, with everyone watching.  She closed her eyes with an effort,   
suddenly aware that she was trembling.  Why was he doing this to her?  Why   
was she doing this to herself?  They'd come to a mutual agreement that   
despite their love for one another, they wouldn't act on it.  Not in the   
near future, anyway.  Dana knew she had to stop her partner right now,   
before things got out of control.  Not to mention that they were on duty! 

        She tried to pull her foot away, but he held onto it.  However,   
his strokes changed -- got lighter, less intense -- and after a few   
moments she decided to hazard a look at her partner.  His eyes weren't on   
her anymore.  He was scanning the area as he gently continued to massage   
her foot, spreading out the toes and gently stretching them.  Finally, he   
let go of her foot, and she limply let her leg fall back to the ground.   
She didn't resist when he lifted her other foot.  He began to stroke it as   
well, but not with the intensity he'd used before.  This touch was   
gentler, more distant.  Dana sighed in relief as she realized that he   
understood her dilemma. 

        After a few minutes he released that foot as well, and simply   
watched her as she continued to rest limply on her chair. 

        "You look tired." 

        His words startled her.  They hadn't talked for so long now that   
she'd grown accustomed to the silence. 

        "I guess I am, a little.  When does the next shift come in?" 

        Mulder looked at his watch.  "In an hour.  Then we'll be free to   
go and have supper, then rest.  Of course, if nothing happens today, you   
know we're going to have to do this again tomorrow." 

        "Yes, I know Mulder.  I hope something happens soon, though.  I'm   
not sure I could stand the monotony of walking the same beat this way for   
days on end." 

        "Well, that's not likely to happen.  Lieutenant Welsh didn't seem   
too pleased to lend us some of his manpower, so I'd say we've got three   
days at most before he loses his patience." 

        "Three days?  Do you think our suspect will attack before then?" 

        "I can't be one hundred percent sure, Scully, but I have a feeling   
he's around.  It shouldn't be too long.  But chances are it won't happen   
today.  I'd say there's a better chance of something happening tomorrow.   
We've got the early shift, before the businesses open.  Ten to one that's   
when something is going to happen." 

        Scully nodded slowly, straightening herself in her chair.  The   
tension was returning.  The anticipation.  The hunt.  Her instincts and   
senses were sharpening again after her temporary rest.  She signaled to   
the waiter, who quickly walked over to their table, and asked for the   
check. 

********** 

        The debriefing at the end of the day was rather uneventful.  Of   
course, no one had seen anything out of the ordinary, and other than a   
couple of shoplifters who had been caught, there was nothing else to   
report.  By mutual agreement, all parties went their separate ways.  They   
would meet again at 4 am.  The 12 hour night shift had started at 5 pm,   
and they would relieve them the next morning. 

********* 

        " 'night Scully." 

        " 'night Mulder." 

        She reached to unlock the door to her hotel room, but stopped when   
she felt his hand on her shoulder.  Turning to look at him, she saw him   
bend down towards her.  Reaching out with her hand, she pushed against his   
chest, keeping him at a distance. 

        "Mulder, what do you think you're doing?" 

        "Kissing you good night." 

        "I realized that.  What happened to our agreement?  The promise   
we'd made not to pursue anything for the moment?" 

        "But Scully, we've broken that agreement twice in less than 24   
hours..." 

        Dana sighed.  This wasn't easy for her, but she was going to have   
to be the one to enforce the rules. 

        "I know, Mulder, and that shouldn't have happened.  We've got to   
try and keep this promise.  We agreed it would be best for everyone.  A   
situation this complicated shouldn't happen right now." 

        "Awwww... Come one Scully... just *one* harmless good-night kiss?   
Please?" 

         Scully stared at him, trying to explain her fear with her eyes,   
but when he seemed to ignore her silent pleading, she simply sighed and   
bowed her head. 

        "Okay Mulder, but make it quick." 

        "Oh, Scully, I can't do that.  I always take my time." 

        Scully felt her breath quicken at the implication in his words.   
This was going to be a hard refusal.  Thinking 'cold' thoughts she nodded,   
deciding to stay impassive as he leaned in for the kiss.  *It's winter,   
I'm freezing, it's snowing outside... I'm in the Arctic circle... Yeah,   
cold like it was in Icy Cape.* 

        She stopped at that thought, thinking of the dangerous   
implications.  Thinking about the electricity of his hands on her back as   
he checked her for contamination. 

        It was at that precise instant that his lips made contact with   
hers, and she was lost. 

        His kiss was chaste, very light, not containing anything but   
promises for the future, which is why she surprised herself when she   
wrapped her arms around him and pulled him forcefully to her. 

        Using every ounce of strength she possessed, she turned them   
around, pushing him into the wall and pressing every inch of herself   
against him.  He still seemed too shocked to respond, so she took that   
chance to slide her hands up and down the sides of his torso, feeling his   
muscles shudder with the contact. 

        Dana couldn't believe it.  Her blood pressure and temperature had   
shot through the roof.  She wanted him.  Wanted him *now*.  There would be   
no waiting.  If she didn't have him tonight, she'd go insane. 

        It was she who was surprised when he finally began to move and   
pushed her away gently.  His eyes had gone dark with desire, but he   
obviously wanted to say something. 

        "Um... Do you realize we're still in the hall?" 

        Dana looked at her surroundings.  She turned a deep crimson as she   
thought of the fact that anyone could have walked by and seen them.   
That's assuming no one had already.  And to think they were always so   
paranoid about someone watching them.  Had she lost *all* her sanity? 

        "And besides," his voiced had lowered an octave and taken on that   
gravely quality she loved, "I promised you to take it slow." 

        Her knees gave way.  She started to collapse, and caught herself   
just in time before she fell to the floor.  In reality, it was his eyes   
that saved her.  They seemed to pull her in, give her the strength to stay   
standing. 

        He started moving along the wall, edging towards her door, Dana in   
tow as he took her hand and tugged.  He pulled her into her room and   
kicked the door shut, backing her into it. 

        "Now, where were we?" 

        "Right about here..."  She replied as she pulled him into her arms   
again. 

        "Oh yeah... that's it." 

        He smiled down at her, purposefully grinding her into the wall   
with his hips as he oh-so-slowly lowered his head to hers. 

        He was driving her insane.  The speed of his descent made her   
think she was watching a scene in slow motion, and she desperately wanted   
to hit the fast forward button. 

        She stretched her neck, trying to get as close to his open mouth   
as possible, needing his contact.  Wanting it more than she wanted to take   
her next breath.  She reached out with her tongue, thinking she just might   
be able to touch him.  It worked.  They finally made contact.  He let his   
tongue touch hers, feeling the jolt of electricity crossing through his   
body from the contact.  With a rush of energy, he suddenly bridged the gap   
between their lips and ravished her with a deep kiss. 

        With a need she couldn't describe, she pulled his hips closer to   
hers, wanting maximum contact.  She could feel his growing excitement,   
reflected by his body's responses.  Suddenly the contact wasn't enough.   
They both wanted more.  So much more. 

        Mulder broke away, taking in a deep breath, and moved back from   
her, once again pulling her along as he headed for the bed.  They sat down   
facing each other, suddenly unsure what to do or say.  This was all so   
new. 

        His eyes found hers, questioning her, wanting to know if this was   
too much, too fast.  Her responding hungry look told him all he needed to   
know.  She wanted this as much as he did.  The intensity of her gaze made   
his insides twist around uncomfortably.  She was so strong, so   
self-assured.  Was he up to the challenge?  **Could you back away now if   
you wanted to?**  He asked himself, and the answer was immediate.  **No.**   
Besides, he didn't want to.  His body was thrumming with anticipation. 

        Scully was wondering what was happening.  Why was he taking so   
long?  Was he changing his mind?  She looked once again at his eyes and   
was relieved to see this wasn't the case.  Did he want her to take the   
lead?  That thought excited her.  It wasn't something she'd had the chance   
to do very often.  With a smile, she got up on her knees and gently pushed   
Mulder down onto his back.  He didn't resist, landing with a slight thud   
as the mattress bounced with the impact.  She straddled his waist, sitting   
back on his thighs. 

        Mulder didn't move, waiting to see what would happen next.  This   
had definitely taken a turn for the better.  He hadn't really thought that   
Scully would take the initiative so quickly, but he had to admit he like   
it.  It suited her.  She was always in control.  This was just another   
facet of her personality.  Resting his head on his arms, he smiled up at   
her, a willful subject to her every whim. 

        Scully saw his smile appear and some of her control snapped.  She   
put her hands to his sides, then started moving them up his body, reaching   
towards his back, and finally making it to his neck.  One hand began   
massaging the point where his neck met his shoulders while her other hand   
twined itself into his soft hair, entrapping him as she lowered herself   
down to kiss her way up from the opening of his shirt.  She felt him   
squirm under her, his hips trying to buck up, but her weight was just   
enough to prevent him from moving.  Smiling contentedly, she leaned into   
his ear, whispering. 

        "Do you like that?" 

        "Ye--esssssss." 

        His half choked reply made her laugh.  Taunting him further, she   
turned his head so he was looking to his right as she let her tongue trace   
the whorls of his ear, making sure to cover every square inch of skin   
before stopping to bite his lobe, tugging at it until he let out a slight   
whimper. 

        His eyes were closed and his teeth clenched.  This was pure and   
utter torture, to feel her doing this to him.  He had decided to let her   
continue to take the lead, but this was beyond his capabilities.  He   
needed to touch her.  He placed his hands on her waist, pushing her   
sweater up as he began to run his hands up and down her sides.  She   
responded by moving up and down to follow his hands, raising herself   
slowly, only to sit back down on him.  Repeating the motion over and over   
again.  A pantomime of what would soon follow.  Unable to continue this   
pace, he grabbed her waist tightly and held her down, adjusting his hips   
slightly so she could feel the reason why she couldn't continue that   
movement right now.  She smiled slightly and nodded, understanding. 

        "I... I..."  He licked his lips, suddenly dry," I told you I   
wanted to take this slow, and I meant it." 

        He saw a shadow of disappointment cross her face for an instant,   
and then her eyes light up as she once again smiled. 

        **Hmmm... This had definite possibilities,** Scully thought.  She   
leaned into Mulder's ear one more time whispering her idea. 

        "Care for a game of mirror?" 

        He looked at her, puzzled. 

        "You know... Mirror.  I used to play that game when I was a child.   
Whatever the other person says or does, the other person imitates." 

        Mulder smiled.  This had definite possibilities. 

        "Okay, but you start." 

        Scully grinned.  He was letting her take the lead.  She leaned   
down and kissed him lightly, running her tongue along his upper, then   
lower lip.  She waited patiently while he did the same.  Stretching   
herself onto him, she began to kiss her way around his face, starting with   
his eyes, down one cheek, up the other, back to the corners or his mouth,   
one quick peck on the lips, and she finished with one final kiss on his   
nose.  That surprised him so much that she decided to take it one step   
further, giving the tip of his nose a lick, then a quick bite.  Sitting   
back, she looked down at him, waiting for his response. 

        He raised his torso slightly, holding himself up on his elbows as   
he once again stared deep in her eyes.  Then, all of a sudden, he took a   
hold of her and pushed her onto the bed, settling himself on her much as   
she had before, mirroring her every move.  All except for the nose.   
Somehow, he knew that she had done that especially for him.  Instead, he   
lowered his mouth to the start of her collarbone and slowly licked his way   
from there to her ear, following her pulse. 

        She exhaled slowly.  How had he known that part of her was so   
sensitive?  Her hands wrapped themselves around his upper back, kneading   
the muscles slowly, feeling them tense and relax as he held himself above   
her, moving about as he favoured her right ear.  She closed her eyes,   
letting the feelings overwhelm her.  If she could freeze one moment in   
time, a time that she could recall and relive forever, this would be the   
one.  Mulder resting against her, his hands and mouth bringing her to the   
edge of sensory overload. 

        Thinking this might be a good time to escalate the situation,   
Mulder purposefully circled his hips against his partner's, watching as   
her eyes flew open.  He tensed, waiting for her to do the same, unsure of   
whether he'd be able to handle it if she did.  Instead, she dragged her   
hands down to his rear, kneading the muscles and pulling him closer to   
her, forcing him to circle again. 

        His sharp intake of surprise was followed with an accusatory look. 

        "I thought you'd said we'd be playing mirror!" 

        "Well, I picked the game and I'm allowed to change the rules as I   
please!  Besides," her voice lowered, taking on a breathy quality, "don't   
you think this is a better variation?" 

        He chuckled softly, unable to argue with her logic.  Besides, his   
mind had taken a leave of absence about 5 minutes ago.  He was slowly but   
surely being reduced to a creature of passion, unable to do anything but   
feel and return the pleasure. 

        "Well, if you're going to play that way, then I'm going to add my   
own modification too." 

        "Oh yeah?"  Scully inquired.  "What?" 

        "Clothes.  We have way too many of them on." 

        She smiled her agreement as she began to lift his sweater.  She   
had to stop when it reached his arms. 

        "You know, you're going to have to take your arms off of me if you   
want me to pull this off you." 

        He sighed, sitting back and raising his arms so she could properly   
dispose of his sweater.  Then he leaned back towards her, putting his   
hands at her waist and starting to pull up the material.  She arched her   
back off the bed in order to facilitate the removal of that pesky piece of   
clothing, and smiled contentedly as she saw it fly across the room to   
reach the pile his own sweater had started. 

        "Remind me to play this game again, sometime.  This is fun!"   
Mulder told her, as he waited for her next move.  She reached for the belt   
at his waist, deftly unbuckling it before pulling it out altogether.  He   
reached down and did the same. 

        "Hmm... I wonder..." 

        "What?"  She asked. 

        "Well, maybe we shouldn't throw those too far away.  They might   
come in handy later." 

        She smacked him lightly on the chest, laughing at his suggestion. 

        "Not if you want to take it slow, Mulder.  Now, be a good boy and   
put those away so we can concentrate on more pressing matters." 

        "Yes ma'am!" 

        The two pieces of leather and metal went flying towards the pile   
of clothes and landed with a soft clink. 

        Mulder realized that something was definitely unfair here.  She   
had more pieces of clothing on than she had. 

        "Uh, Scully... There's a problem here.  We can't have a mirror   
game going when you've got some clothes on that should be there." 

        He fingered her bra lightly, indicating his point of contention. 

        "Oh, is that all?" 

        She reached behind her and snapped off the annoying garment,   
slipping it off her arms and sending it into orbit. 

        "Better?" 

        "Much." 

        He leaned down and began to kiss her body while she ran her hands   
up and down his back, occasionally raking her fingers until she could feel   
his shuddering response.  He aimed for her breasts, slowly approaching   
them, kissing, then backing away as she raised her head and returned the   
kiss.  He followed the curve of her breast upwards, pausing before he   
reached the nipple, looking at her, seeing her desire, her need, the   
desperate way she wanted him to reach his goal.  There was no turning back   
now.  He leaned down and closed his mouth around her upraised nipple. 

        She gasped and arched her back, overwhelmed by the sensation.  She   
felt her divided response.  One part of her did not want him to move,   
while the other part of him wanted him to pull away so she could lavish   
the same attention on his corresponding body part.  The latter part   
winning the battle, she tried to push him away, but his mouth was fastened   
onto her breast and he refused to let go.  Frustrated, Scully tried to   
think of an alternate plan, and a smile crossed her face as she found one.   
Slowly, she ran her fingers along his chest, finally reaching his small,   
hard nipples, and began playing with them.  She heard him moan, but he   
didn't quite lose contact with her, so she continued to play with each   
nub, rolling it and pinching it with her fingers, alternately flicking it.   
Each touch made him jerk slightly, instinctively.  Finally he could not   
take it anymore and he backed away from her, softly calling out "Uncle!" 

        She smiled and pulled him down to kiss his chest, taking her turn   
at tasting his nipples while he countered with his hands.  Suddenly she   
understood what she had just put him through.  She felt her body begin to   
writhe: her lower back arching while she rocked from side to side. 

        He put one hand on her lower abdomen, keeping her pressed against   
the bed.  When that didn't work, he pushed her down with his whole body.   
When she finally stopped moving he looked down at her. 

        "Okay, I think we still have too many clothes." 

        She nodded her agreement and her hands wandered to the fastening   
of his jeans.  She deftly popped open the button and pulled down the   
zipper, careful to not catch the bulge underneath.  Mulder stopped for a   
second, realizing she was doing this with practiced ease.  Just how many   
times had she done this? 

        "You seem to know your way around, Dr. Scully." 

        "How could I not, when I have to keep undressing you every time   
you get really sick or injured.  You know, if I sent you a bill I could   
buy myself a cruise around the world?" 

        He chuckled, reassured by her teasing tone. 

        "Well, you didn't have to rub it in!" 

        "I'm sorry, Mulder, but you asked.  And besides," she moved her   
hips against his, "I *do* intend to rub it in..." 

        He groaned in response and pressed himself into her, his own way   
of promising he'd do his share of rubbing. 

        With that, she eased her hands into the back of his jeans, pushing   
them off his hips and down his legs.  He reached down with one hand to   
help her, pushing one leg off, then the other.  Instead of throwing the   
cloth onto the growing pile, he preferred to simply let the jeans fall to   
the floor next to the bed. 

        "Your turn." 

        He reached down and unfastened her pants.  She raised her hips as   
he pulled them down, taking one cuff at a time and pulling the fabric free   
of her legs before dropping the pants to join their counterpart on the   
floor. 

        He quickly removed his socks and hers, then reached for her hips. 

        "One more to go." 

        Slowly he grasped the top of her panties and let them slide down   
her legs before dropping them to the floor.  He reached for his own boxers   
and was starting to remove them when she stopped him with her hands. 

        "Allow me." 

        She hooked her thumbs under the waistband at his back and spread   
the rest of her fingers on his rear.  Then, slowly, she began pushing the   
boxers down, allowing her hands to follow and caress as she went.  She   
felt him shudder and he seemed to lose some control as she felt his weight   
press into her some more, weakened from the touch.  She had to stop the   
descent of his last piece of clothing just above the knees.  He was   
pinning her down with her body, and she couldn't push the cloth any   
further.  Instead, she left the boxers where they were and dragged her   
hands back up his body.  Once again, he shuddered.  Lifting his head off   
her, he looked into her eyes before leaning in to give her another searing   
kiss, which stretched on and on until it turned into a tender exploration   
of each other. 

        It was that last tender move that brought Scully completely over   
the edge.  Inflamed, she began to stroke Mulder.  She ran her hands over   
every inch of his body, wanting nothing but to make him lose complete   
control.  He let out a deep groan and broke contact, reaching town to tear   
his boxers off.  Leaning back in, he pushed himself onto her and pressed   
his mouth against her ear. 

        "Tell me now... do you want to be in control?  Do you want to be   
on top?" 

        She froze.  No one had ever asked her that.  She wasn't sure what   
to do.  Her mind raced with the possibilities.  What did she want?  Him.   
Did it matter how?  Yes, but she didn't know what she wanted.  Finally,   
one point came across as important. 

        "Mulder, I want to lose control.  I want you to make me wild with   
pleasure.  Do what it takes so we both lose control." 

        He looked at her solemnly, nodding his understanding before he   
leaned down and began to explore her all over again, kissing, nipping,   
licking and caressing ever inch of her body.  Touching her everywhere   
except her center.  He knew she would want to be touched there, and by   
denying her this wish, this was a way to make her lose control. 

        After a few moments he looked back at her face, gauging the   
results.  Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was opened in the shape of   
an 'O'.  Her entire body was flushed and a thin sheen of sweat covered her   
skin.  She was ready.  They both knew it. 

        Dana opened her eyes and saw his probing look.  She knew he wanted   
to feel the same way she did, so she gathered her remaining strength and   
pushed him off her, flipping them around so she was laying on top of him.   
She systematically began kissing him, doing the exact same thing he had   
done to her. 

        He began to moan, unable to stop himself.  He was close to the   
edge.  She hadn't done anything but run her hands and mouth across his   
body and he was practically wild with desire.  Suddenly his mind broke in.   
This was enough, it told him.  He had to take her, now. 

        Reaching out to take Scully's hands, he placed them gently on his   
chest while he circled her waist and positioned her above him.  He made   
sure he was touching her entrance, then began to lower her onto him.   
Slowly at first... He felt her opening up to him, stretching and   
adjusting.  The feeling was overwhelming.  When he felt was well on his   
way into her he suddenly let go of her waist so she dropped onto him.  It   
was the equivalent of him thrusting into her forcefully, and both groaned   
with the resulting feelings. 

        Dana felt a moment of panic as he let her go and she fell, but   
this was quickly replaced by a tingling in her blood as the feeling of him   
inside her registered.  She was breathless.  She was overwhelmed.  But   
most of all, she wanted more.  Bracing herself against his chest she   
slowly raised herself and dropped again.  His hands again wrapped around   
her waist and he helped her up and down as she began to rock above him.   
His hips came up in counterpoint, increasing the depth of the penetration.   
The tempo increased.  Their blood coursed.  Their breaths turned to   
gasps. 

        They were skimming the edge, almost there.  Dana could feel the   
tension building in her abdomen.  Only a few more thrusts, she knew, and   
she would be blissfully thrown over the edge.  It was then that he   
stopped.  It took a second for this to compute, so she didn't look at him   
right away.  When she finally did, she saw his face tense with   
concentration. 

        "Mulder?" 

        She didn't know what else to say.  How do you phrase a question   
like this.  Why had he stopped? 

        He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began speaking through   
clenched teeth. 

        "You know, I really meant it when I said I wanted to take this   
slowly.  I think we should take a moment and slow down." 

        "What?  Are you crazy?" 

        "That's what I'm asking myself right now, but no.  I'm not.  You   
want wild?  You want to lose complete control?  Trust me on this one." 

        "You've done this before?" 

        "No, but I've got a feeling about this.  Okay?" 

        "No, not okay, Mulder.  I want to continue.  *Now*." 

        She tried to raise herself off him, but he held her tightly   
against him.  Frustrated, she let herself fall forward onto him, hoping   
the jolt would make him budge. 

        "Mulder, I don't know why you're doing this." 

        "Do you want me?" 

        His question stopped her. 

        "What sort of a question is that?" 

        "Just tell me." 

        "Yes." 

        "Well, I want you to want me even more." 

        With that he turned them around, pressing her into the bed as he   
began thrusting.  Slowly at first, then faster.  Pushing into her with   
every once of energy he had.  Just as he felt her coming close to the edge   
again he slowed down and stopped.  She groaned in frustration, trying to   
push her hips towards him. 

        "Why are you doing this to me, Mulder?" 

        He breathed heavily, taking a moment to compose himself as he   
tried to formulate a coherent answer.  Words weren't easy right now. 

        "Because that's what you asked me.  You wanted to lose control.   
Do you feel in control right now, Dana?" 

        She just stared at him.  He wasn't sure if it was the question or   
the fact he used her first name.  He watched as she seemed to search   
within herself.  Finally she took a quick breath and answered. 

        "No, no I don't." 

        "Neither do I.  I'm drowning in you.  I can't wait any longer.  I   
need you.  This is where I completely lose control." 

        With those words he began thrusting into her again, hard and fast.   
The gentleness was gone.  They were both concentrating on the same goal:   
completion.  The pace became frantic as they both approached the edge, her   
body writhing from his attack. 

        He knew he only had a few more thrusts to go before he came, and   
he desperately wanted to tell her something.  Gathering together the last   
of his frazzled thoughts he pressed his face against the side of her head   
and whispered. 

        "You're the only one I trust.  I wouldn't allow myself to lose   
control with anyone else." 

        With this he let out a strangled moan as he came.  He never felt   
her nails dig into his back as she followed him over the edge.  The   
feelings were overwhelming.  They soared, they fell.  Together. 

        Dana felt herself spasm and she shook helplessly.  Her partner's   
last words had thrown her over the edge.  She felt him collapse onto her,   
spent.  There was still a burn in her groin as she continued to come.   
Weakly, she wrapped her arms around his neck as she tried to stop her   
shaking.  He moved slightly to nestle his face into her neck.  They could   
feel each other's heartbeat.  Slowly returning to normal. 

        With a deep regret Mulder pulled out of her and turned to his   
side, his partner following.  With their arms wrapped around each other   
they relaxed. 

        Scully moved to look at him and opened her mouth to speak but he   
silenced her with a finger against her lips. 

        "No more talking tonight.  I just want to hold you.  Please, let me." 

        She looked into his eyes for a long time, as if searching for some   
kind of answer, then simply nodded and moved back into his arms.  She fell   
asleep almost instantly.  Mulder held her tightly and closed his eyes.  As   
he was drifting off he remembered he had to set the alarm.  Reluctantly   
pulling away from his sleeping partner, he set the travel alarm and turned   
back to wrap his arms around her again.  She sighed contentedly in her   
sleep and burrowed her head against his chest. 

        They slept well that night, with no dreams. 

********** 

   Dana heard the alarm go off and went to stretch her arm out to   
stop it.  She was surprised when she couldn't move it.  As her   
sleep-fogged brain started to function again she realized that her arms   
were crossed against her chest and another pair of arms was encircling   
her. 

        "Mulder." 

        No response. 

        "Mulder, the alarm's ringing.  We have to get up." 

        He groaned in his sleep, unwilling to wake up.  She pushed her   
arms against him, forcing him to move over.  Finally his eyes opened, and   
he let go of her, stretching languidly.  He reached over and turned off   
the alarm, then wound his arms back around her. 

        "It's about time!" 

        "Good morning to you too, Scully." 

        "Well, considering that it's 3 am, I don't think you can   
technically call this morning." 

        "Fine, if you're going to split hairs, good night." 

        He laughed softly and she could feel his chest rise and fall.  She   
kissed him lightly on the neck. 

        "Now, are you going to release your death grip on me so I can go   
and shower?" 

        "Maybe, if you say the password." 

        "Spooky?" 

        He laughed. 

        "No.  Try again." 

        "Trust no one?" 

        He became very serious as he looked into her face. 

        "I meant what I told you before.  I trust you.  Implicitly.  I've   
never trusted anyone this much.  Only you." 

        Tears sprang to her eyes at his words and she managed to move her   
arms so she could hug him.  They held each other for a moment before she   
moved away.  She was shocked to see tears in his eyes as well.  She looked   
at him questioningly and waited patiently for an explanation when she saw   
he was trying to speak. 

        "This... This can't affect us.  It's too important to me.  They   
can't find out.  I won't let them split us up.  I won't let them try to   
drive a wedge between us.  I won't let anything happen to you again.  I   
\--" 

        It was her turn to silence him with her fingers. 

        "I know.  This is important to me too.  But listen to me.  No   
matter what you say you can't protect me all the time.  First of all, I'd   
be offended if you tried.  I'm capable, I'm my own person, and I've got as   
much training as you do.  Second of all, you can't be everywhere all the   
time.  When we're investigating or on our own personal time, we will be   
separated, and I don't want you to feel responsible for what happens to   
me.  Finally, things happen.  Accidents happen.  You can't help them.  All   
you can do is *hope* they don't happen.  And you have to live for the   
moment.  Take every ounce of love and happiness you can while you have a   
chance.  I know this.  You know this.  We learned it the hard way." 

        Mulder looked at her, amazed by her strength and resolve.  He   
loved her even more if this was possible.  He held her close,   
understanding what she meant and showing her he did by this contact. 

        "What about this?  Us?  We said that we wouldn't take this   
direction.  Now that we've done this, can we go back to the way before?   
Do you want to?" 

        "I don't know, Mulder.  I want to keep this, but I know it's   
dangerous.  Not just emotionally but physically too.  We know what the   
consortium can do.  Can you imagine what they'd do if they found out about   
us?" 

        "What if they have already?" 

        "That's something we'll deal with if we need to.  But I know that   
if they don't, we can't let them find out.  Which is why..." 

        He continued to look at her as she faltered, seemingly unsure of   
what to say. 

        "What?  What is it, Scully?" 

        "Which is why we can't do this again.  At least not soon." 

        Mulder backed away, as if he'd been struck. 

        "Why?" 

        "Don't take this the wrong way, Mulder.  I don't want this to   
happen any more than you do, but you saw how we reacted last night.  Just   
one kiss and we were out of control, careless.  We might make a mistake,   
do something stupid, and we'd be found out.  Even though the Bureau   
doesn't have any rules about having a relationship, the Consortium can   
still make our lives more difficult.  They can try to separate us.  They   
can take one of us.  They can..." 

        She faltered, unable to utter the next few words. 

        "They can kill one of us, or both of us.  I know I wouldn't be   
able to stand that either.  Which is why this can't continue.  Not right   
now.  I need you to understand this.  Don't pull away from me.  Don't turn   
cold.  Just tell me you understand and hold me a few minutes, because when   
we leave this room there'll be no turning back." 

        He edged his way back to her, his eyes the image of a tortured   
soul.  He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.  They pulled   
each other close, as if they wanted to bury themselves into the other.   
This was not an easy decision to make.  Mulder knew she was right.  It   
didn't make it any easier.  He had to try and help her.  He could feel her   
pain. 

        "I'm not angry at you, Scully.  I'm angry at the situation.  I   
don't want this to change our lives, but you're right.  It has.  I'm   
willing to wait.  I don't know how I'll do it, but we'll beat them.  We'll   
beat them somehow and we'll finally be able to love each other without   
having to look over our shoulders." 

        He held her even tighter, feeling her tears fall onto his arm. 

        "There's only one thing I need to know." 

        "She lifted her head and looked into his eyes." 

        "Can I kiss you again if the shopkeeper tries to talk to us today?" 

        Scully laughed.  She couldn't help herself.  The situation was so   
bizarre.  She lowered her head to Mulder's neck and deposited one last   
kiss before extricating herself from his arms and the covers.  As she   
stood up she looked at him longingly one last time before heading to the   
bathroom. 

        "Want me to join you in the shower?" 

        "Mul-der!" 

        He gave her his best puppy dog look. 

        "Don't tell me you don't want me to join you.  I know you'd be lying." 

        She sighed.  He knew he was tempting her.  Why did she have the be   
the one to enforce the rule she was so angry at having to follow anyway? 

        "Mulder, don't do this to me.  Besides, it's 3:15 am.  We only   
have forty five minutes to get ready and make it to the police station!   
Tell you what, I'll race you as to who can take the shortest shower.  The   
first one to finish can run to the other's room and turn off the hot   
water." 

        "You're on!" 

        He took off for his room through the connecting door, and she   
heard his bathroom door bang shut.  Dana laughed as she entered her own   
bathroom and locked the door. 

********** 

        The atmosphere in the briefing room wasn't very congenial.  The   
agents weren't happy at having spent the whole day yesterday waiting for a   
criminal that didn't strike.  They were restless, wishing this would be   
over with. 

        After the final instructions, the pairs of agents and policemen   
went on their way.  Mulder approached the two policemen they'd originally   
worked with. 

        "Detective Vecchio, constable Fraser, I see we'll be placed near   
each other." 

        Ray tried his best to smile.  Being stuck near Fibbies for ten   
hours wasn't exactly his idea of a fun day. 

        "Well, I guess I'll see you out there, agent Mulder." 

        They headed out of the room for their respective cars.  The   
surveillance was different than that of the day before, at least until   
shop opening hours.  It would be very suspicious if that many people were   
walking on the street at five in the morning. 

********** 

        It was 6:30 am and the sun was just starting to rise.  Mulder   
opened the car door and, balancing the tray of coffees and crullers. 

        "Mmmmmm... Smells good!" 

        "Thought you might need a pick-me-up." 

        He smiled, handing her a steaming cup of freshly brewed Mocha Java. 

        She wrapped her hands around it, feeling the warmth seeping into   
her cold hands.  The weather was nice by day, but after dark (**Or before   
morning,** she told herself) the air got quite chilly.  Dana felt the need   
to make conversation, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting next to the   
man she'd made love to only a few hours ago.  Her expression darkened as   
she once again cursed the Consortium for preventing them from having a   
normal life. 

        "Penny for your thoughts," Mulder broke into her musings. 

        "Huh?  Oh, nothing.  I was just wondering if the criminal will   
strike today." 

        "Well, I certainly hope so.  I do know that if he doesn't strike   
today, we'll be having a hard time rounding up enough manpower to have a   
third day of surveillance." 

        "How sure we you of the profile?" 

        "Well, no one can be absolutely sure of something like that, but   
I'm as reasonably sure as I can be.  He should strike within the next few   
day--" 

        Mulder never got to finish that word, or his sentence because an   
alarm suddenly sounded. 

        "Speak of the devil, Scully.  Let's go!" 

        They ran out of the car, food forgotten for now, and headed   
towards the car with the two policemen. 

        "Vecchio, Fraser, come on!" 

        The two men were on their way out, Ray explaining that he had   
taken a few seconds to radio for back-up. 

        All four ran towards the direction of the alarm.  It seemed rather   
near.  Half a block later, they came near a store whose front window had   
been smashed in.  Slowing down, they approached with caution.  Mulder   
signaled for Vecchio and Fraser to circle around the back while he and   
Scully would examine the front. 

        They crouched down and moved to the front of the store, staying   
low so they would not be visible from the inside of the store.  Mulder   
hazarded a look, raising his head only slightly.  He lowered himself   
almost immediately. 

        "I saw some movement inside," he whispered to Scully.  They looked   
at each other, trying to decide whether to wait for the criminal to exit   
or whether they should go in.  They were spared from having to make the   
final decision when they heard a gunshot and a man screaming.  Not   
hesitating, they both got up and ran for the back of the store, stopping   
at the edge of the wall.  Scully carefully looked around the corner to see   
what was happening before she jumped out, in fighting stance, gun aimed   
and ready. 

        "Whoa!  Whoa!  It's okay, agent Scully.  We're alright." 

        It was detective Vecchio speaking.  He was crouching over a man,   
who was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a bullet wound. 

        "He came out the back and tried to jump us, but I shot him before   
he got the chance.  Benny went inside to check to see if there were any   
others.  You might want to go check on him while I call for an ambulance." 

        "It's alright, Ray.  I'm back," Fraser said as he walked out of   
the store.  "There was no one else inside.  I checked.  This man was   
obviously working alone.  Is he the suspect we were looking for?" 

        Mulder stared down at the injured man, taking a good look at his face. 

        "Well, it's hard to say, considering that our best description is   
the colour of his eyes and his are closed, but it seems like the build,   
height, and weight are right." 

        Scully didn't waste any time looking at the suspect, but bent down   
over him, administering first aid while they waited for the emergency   
medical team to arrive. 

        It didn't take long before they heard the sirens approaching.  The   
technicians drove up to the back of the store through the alley and   
stopped next to them.  It took a few minutes for them to ascertain the   
criminal's condition, strap him onto the gurney, and load him up in the   
vehicle before they took off towards the nearest hospital, with a police   
escort. 

        "Well, looks like a wrap, boys.  What say we go on over to the   
station and fill out the necessary paperwork?" 

        "Good idea, Vecchio.  But remember, this is our case, so we're the   
one who have to fill in the paperwork." 

        Ray smiled.  "I know.  I just couldn't help rubbing it in." 

        He turned around just in time to miss Mulder's glare.  If looks   
could kill... 

********** 

        "I just called the hospital.  They said the suspect is in stable   
condition, and he was moved out of ICU a few hours ago.  He regained   
consciousness once, though he didn't say anything.  He only grunted a   
couple of times, then passed out again." 

        "Sounds like our man, Scully." 

        He'd smiled at her as she'd walked through the door to their   
temporary office at the Chicago FBI offices. 

        "I've taken the opportunity to begin the paperwork on this case.   
I imagine that Skinner will be happy about a normal resolution for once." 

        "I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you." 

        "Why, Scully?" 

        "There's still the matter of the fingers growing back.  Did you   
noticed that our suspect had his ten fingers?  He was fingerprinted upon   
arrival at the hospital, and the prints matched the ones that were found   
in the various crime scenes *as well* as those found on the fingers   
Vecchio and Fraser retrieved." 

        "Hmmm... curioser and curioser." 

        "I've had a series of lab tests done on him, including some   
cultures.  If this man is able to grow back fingers -- not that I believe   
that he did, but that remains to be proven -- then there's got to be an   
observable genetic, macromolecular, and microscopic phenomenon." 

        "Oooooo I love it when you talk dirty." 

********** 

        Chantal reached for the ringing phone as she finished cutting some   
vegetables for a casserole. 

        "Hello?" 

        "Miss Kuhn, this is agent Mulder." 

        She froze, unsure how to respond. 

        "Yes?" 

        "I'm just calling to tell you that we've apprehended a suspect who   
fits the description you've given us, and we'd like it if you would come   
down to identify him." 

        She felt herself begin to tremble.  Could it be possible that this   
ordeal might finally be over? 

        "When?" 

        "Well, not right away.  Our suspect is still in the hospital, but   
he should be released tomorrow, so we'll call you as soon as it's possible   
for you to come downtown and identify him.  Alright?" 

        "Yes.  Thank you." 

        She dropped the phone back in its place and sank to the floor in   
relief.  It was over.  It was finally over, she repeated to herself as she   
hugged her knees and rocked back and forth.  She could go on with her   
life.  Tomorrow. 

********** 

        Mulder and Scully walked down the corridor towards their rooms,   
tired after a very long day's work.  They were both looking forward to a   
hot shower and a good night's sleep. 

        As they reached Scully's door she turned towards him. 

        " 'night Mulder." 

        " 'night Scully." 

        They both tried to not let their minds remember the last time   
they'd been in this situation.  Standinging there, looking in each other's   
eyes, they both seemed to come to the same conclusion.  It wouldn't happen   
tonight. 

        Sighing, Mulder reached out and cupped her chin, rubbing her   
bottom lip with his thumb. 

        "Sweet dreams," he said, as she leaned down to place a kiss on her   
cheek and moved on to his own room. 

        Dana waited until he'd reached his room and had looked back at   
her, smiling, before she opened her own door.  Closing it, she leaned back   
against it, suddenly feeling weak.  She took a deep breath and sighed as   
she released it.  Their friendship had survived.  They would make it.  And   
someday, hopefully soon, they would be able to be together.  Permanently. 

********** 

        Chantal was escorted to the dark room with the one-sided mirror by   
detective Vecchio.  When she stepped inside she recognized the other three   
people who had helped her.  Agents Mulder and Scully were near the mirror   
while constable Fraser was more to the side. 

        It was agent Scully who approached her, a concerned expression on   
her face. 

        "Now, I just want to remind you that this is a one-sided mirror.   
You'll be able to see them, but they won't be able to see you or hear you.   
There will be four men walking in, one of them is the suspect.  Take your   
time, look at the line-up, and when you feel ready, tell us if you   
recognize the man who attacked you.  Is that clear?" 

        "Yes." 

        Chantal tried to sound convincing when she answer, but she didn't   
quite manage as a small waver could be heard, even with just that one   
syllable. 

        She heard Vecchio's voice as he ordered for the men to enter the   
room, and, in a daze, forced herself to look at the lighted room on the   
other side of the glass partition.  The men walked in slowly, single file.   
She didn't even have to wait for them to turn and face the mirror.  He   
was there.  She'd recognized him right away.  As he turned Chantal tried   
to look into his eyes, but they burned with anger as she tried to look at   
his face, and she turned away quickly. 

        "It's him.  Number three." 

        "Are you sure?"  Mulder pried, wanting to get absolute confirmation. 

        "Y-yes.  I'm s-s-sure." 

        She barely managed to stutter that last phrase as she felt all the   
strength leave her and she collapsed onto a nearby chair, sobbing   
uncontrollably.  She felt a hand tap her shoulder lightly, and as she   
turned to see who it was she saw a red-clad arm reaching out to offer her   
a tissue.  Overwhelmed by her conflicting emotions over the criminal: the   
fear of seeing him again, the relief of knowing he'd finally go to jail,   
the tension of the last few weeks not knowing if she was safe -- it all   
came to a boil.  She was so overwhelmed by the Mountie's kindness that she   
got up and threw her arms around his neck as she burst into tears once   
again. 

        Fraser was taken aback by the woman's impulsive actions and he   
froze for a second, unsure what to do.  But with the sounds of her crying   
he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, trying to soothe her with   
some reassuring words. 

        "It's okay, miss.  It's over.  Everything's alright now.  You're safe." 

        He rocked her back and forth, continuing to try to comfort her.   
Finally her sobs subsided and she pulled back slightly.  He reached into   
his belt pouch and pulled out another tissue.  He handed it to her, but   
when she didn't respond he wiped the moisture away from her eyes. 

        The contact brought her out of her daze and she blushed   
self-consciously, bowing her head slightly. 

        "Thank you," she said, as she smiled and looked back up at him. 

        "It was nothing," he responded, an automatic comment.  He looked   
down at her to give her a reassuring smile and stopped as he saw the   
intensity of her look.  Worried by the effect she was having on him, he   
swallowed quickly and excused himself as he backed away and went out into   
the hall. 

        The others had been more or less aware of what had just happened,   
but they had been busy going through the motions of having the criminal   
locked away, so they hadn't done anything about it. 

        An hour later, all the appropriate paperwork had been filled out   
and it was time for Mulder and Scully to leave the precinct.  They shook   
hands with detective Vecchio and constable Fraser, thanking them for the   
help. 

        "It was a pleasure, agent Mulder, agent Scully," Fraser replied,   
smiling as he ignored the kick to the ankle Ray was giving him. 

        "Yeah, it's been real nice," Ray added, trying to make it sound   
sincere. 

        Both agents turned and walked away, leaving the two friends together. 

        "What did you do that for, Ray?  I must say that for   
representatives of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, they are *very*   
easy to work with." 

        "Compared to what?" 

        "Well, compared to the last agents we had to work with." 

        "You got a point there, Benny.  Besides she was way better to look   
at than that idiot, agent Ford." 

        "I didn't notice, Ray." 

        "Yeah, right, and I've got green curly hair growing off my head.   
You did *too* notice, just like you noticed that other woman." 

        "What other woman?" 

        "Miss Kuhn." 

        "She was crying, Ray.  I merely extended professional courtesy." 

        "Oh so *that's* what you extended?  Show me the section in your   
rulebook that says you're supposed to wipe away a woman's tears.  Admit   
it, Benny.  You want her." 

        "That's preposterous, Ray!" 

        "Sure, whatever.  We'll see..." 

        Ray grabbed his coat and walked towards the exit of the bullpen,   
leaving Benny sitting in a chair, unable to reply. 

********** 

        (a week later) 

        Dana walked down to her partner's office and knocked.  It only   
took a second for him to yell out an "It's open!" before she turned the   
knob and let herself in. 

        "Gee, Mulder.  You seem particularly cheerful today." 

        "What can I say, Scully?  I'm on my fifth cup of coffee today.   
Does it show?" 

        "Barely," she teased. 

        He smiled at her, a conspiratorial look in his eyes. 

        "I assume there's a good reason why you're interrupting me and   
forcing me to tear my attention away from a fascinating new X-File.  So,   
what can I do you for?" 

        She ignored his come-on and smiled at him.  It felt so good to be   
back to the old camaraderie.  Sure, it had been hard for the first few   
days for them to stay in the same room together, especially with the case   
resolved.  But they had come through with flying colours, finally able to   
rely on their habitual banter.  It was a good sign.  More proof that their   
friendship could weather anything.  And someday... when things were   
resolved, when the Consortium's dirty laundry had been aired in public,   
they'd be able to finally act on their love.  In public. 

        "Earth to Scully.  Come in Scully." 

        She shook herself from her reverie and concentrated on her   
surroundings once again. 

        "Oh, sorry.  I came in to tell you that the lab results on the   
suspect we arrested in Chicago just came in." 

        "And?" 

        "Well, the results would seem to indicate that all your hypotheses   
were right." 

        Mulder held back from gloating.  For now.  He simply listened as   
she continued to list off lab results and planned on how he could use this   
in the future as an 'I told you so'. 

        "The hospital technician started some primary cultures from   
biopsies of muscle, skin and bone tissue.  She split them enough times to   
generate several dozens dishes of identical tissue, and began some tests. 

        "First, she noticed that at high and low serum content, the cells   
had a doubling time well above the average for human cells, approaching   
that which she saw for transformed hamster cells...  The doubling time is   
much less than a day. 

        "Next she tried some standard toxin tests, using both apoptotic   
and non-apoptotic agents." 

        "Apopwhat?"  Mulder interrupted. 

        "Apoptotic.  It's another term for programmed cell death.  Cells   
have an inborn program which causes them to commit suicide if they undergo   
a certain type of stress, such as radiation, or receive a signal, such as   
an improper growth signal." 

        "Okay..." 

        "Basically, Mulder, these cells always die the same way, turning   
into dense particles called apoptotic bodies.  It was this regularity that   
allowed scientists to first identify the phenomenon.  When the technician   
subjected the cells to different agents, they seemed to die off at a much   
slower rate." 

        "So these cells are unaffected by the agents?" 

        "Not quite, but they take longer before they are affected.  This   
might give them an advantage in the body, where normally a toxin isn't   
around as long as it was in the tissue culture dishes." 

        "Alright, Scully, but that still doesn't explain to me how that   
man could have grown back fingers." 

       "Not by itself, it can't.  However, there's something else I have   
to explain to you before I go on.  When a cell matures, it either divides   
a number of times and then dies, or else it receives a signal to stop   
growing.  It is believed that cancer is a situation where a cell no longer   
has the ability to die, or gets a signal to grow and divide non-stop.  In   
reality, it's believed that a combination of both is what results in   
cancerous cells, which then turn into tumours if the conditions are   
right." 

        "Alright, but I still don't understand, Scully." 

        "There's more.  In some species of animals, for example some types   
of lizards, there is the ability to regrow limbs.  If the lizard gets   
caught by the tail, it simply breaks it off and runs off.  Later, the tail   
grows back." 

        Mulder's eyes lit up as he began to understand what his partner   
was leading to. 

        "Humans don't have that ability.  You're implying that our suspect   
has somehow regained the ability to regrow parts of his body?" 

        "As much as I hate to admit it, Mulder, it sounds like it.  I'm   
not able to explain exactly how he does it, but the first signs seem to   
point to that conclusion.  There is other evidence... Some preliminary   
marker testing showed abnormal chromosomal organization.  Several   
independents scans have shown that his body is riddled with small tumours,   
though histological tests of the biopsies seem to indicate that they are   
all benign.  He's an anomaly, Mulder.  There won't be an easy explanation   
as to how he managed to regrow his fingers until a more in-depth study of   
his genetic structure can be done.  If we're lucky we'll start getting   
some more results in a month or two.  If we're not lucky, it could take   
years before researchers have anything concrete." 

        "Amazing, Scully.  Isn't it amazing how nature produces such   
creatures?" 

        "It's not amazing, Mulder.  It's rather alarming.  I told you once   
before, on the Flukeman case.  Our polluting of the planet is causing   
problems.  I didn't think we'd seen the last of the mutants then, and I   
don't think we've seen the last of them now, either." 

        "Could this man be the answer to the prayers of all the people who   
have lost a limb?" 

        "Possibly.  We won't know until we understand how he did it himself." 

        "The mind reels with the possibilities." 

        "*Your* mind reels with the possibilities.  But then it always does." 

        "And what about the 'wildness', Scully?  Is it possible he was not   
raised in a civilization, just like the Jersey Devil?  He could have   
somehow been rescued from the wild later in life.  That would allow him to   
use such tools as a syringe, but would explain his lack of speech and his   
wild behaviour." 

        Dana sighed as she saw his eyes glaze over.  He was off in his own   
world, trying to imagine the history of such a mutant. 

        "Well, Mulder, as much as I'd love to stay and continue exchanging   
niceties with you, it's time for me to go home. 

        He snapped out of his reverie at her last words.  Jumping out of   
his chair he reached for his coat on the coat rack. 

        "I'll walk you to your car." 

        He opened the door and guided her through, placing his hand on the   
small of her back. 

        Dana shivered and smiled.  Yes, things were definitely back to normal.   
    
  

                                        The end. 

    
    
    
  

    
  

    
    
    
    
  


End file.
